


The Show Must Go On

by SocialBookWorm



Series: I Measure Every Grief I Meet [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Depression, Gen, Homelessness, Mind Control, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Roman is just so excited that magic exists, Roman tries his best, Suddenly Human AU, TS Storytime Big Bang 2018, Urban Fantasy, Victoria isn't sure this is a good idea, Violence, Virgil is a good big bro, implied thoughts of suicide, self hate, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialBookWorm/pseuds/SocialBookWorm
Summary: Roman’s living the dream; he’s got an apartment with his best friend, a job that pays the bills, and the lead role at the local theater. Once his talent is finally recognized, then maybe he’ll finally lose the wanderlust and restlessness that’s been buried under his skin for as long as he can remember.Only-Only he keeps seeing copies of himself, just different enough that he could tell them all apart, and something in him aches. He knows that he doesn’t have any siblings, there’s no one in his life except for Victoria and her endless support. But it feels like there should be. He doesn’t know if he wants to learn the truth, but he knows that this is it.His Quest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huuuuuuge thanks to my_happy_little_bean for being the BEST and more patient Beta ever XD Tis the 13th for my partner so we're posting today! :D Hop y'all enjoyed I had a blast with this and keep an eye out for the sequel ;)
> 
> _Another hero, another mindless crime,_  
>  Behind the curtain, in the pantomime,  
> On and on, does anybody know what we are living for  
> Whatever happens, We leave it all to chance;  
> Another heartache, another failed romance,  
> On and on, does anybody know what we are living for 
> 
> _The show must go on_  
>  The show must go on  
> Outside the dawn is breaking  
> On the stage  
> That holds our final destiny 
> 
> _~The Show Must Go On_

 

Art by crazygreatgamerperson Find them on [tumblr](http://crazygreatgamerperson.tumblr.com/post/176931989929/my-participation-in-the-ts-storytime-big-bang-i) too!

* * *

 

_In one breath, the world was still and calm, and in the next—_

Roman took a heaving breath, and the pull of the muscles in his chest took him by surprise. He stumbled, blinking at the bright lights and tried to brace himself against the nearest surface for balance. The world was spiraling through kaleidoscopes, fire and ice dancing across his skin as something rough grabbed his arm, jerking him back down.

His fractured world spun, and he struggled to breathe through the onslaught of panic, sharper than he could ever remember feeling it. Knives against his chest, the dragon-witch’s roar in his ears, everything was too much, too much, _too much-_

“–what happened–”

“–breathe Roman, I need you to bre–”

“–is he–”

Everything jolted again and his body snapped forward, a sudden stop to his spiraling fall. Glass was shattering all around him, reflecting the dying sun of his thoughts as he tried to gather himself together into some semblance of coherence. It felt like his hands were scrambling against the ground to try and gather the shards, but all he could do was cut himself against the edges.

They were too smooth, slipping out of his grasp, and he was left with an overwhelming feeling of everything being wrong; and something being wrong that only made his panic worse. He was lost in an enchanted forest, agony ripping through his entire being but still there was—

He needed–

Someone important that he needed to reach–

The sensation darted away, buried amongst the roaring in his ears, and the soft sounds that finally made it past the chaos were achingly familiar and desperately unknown to him at the same time. Rising and falling, clearer and louder than he had even heard them, the opening strains of _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ were the veins on the back of his hand, traced over and over again because—

Because–

His breath hitched, stuttering from its ragged hyperventilation, and there was something— _tears—_ winding their way down his face. The world was slotting back into place, slowly and surely, settling around the unhurried music. It felt right, it felt wrong; it clawed against him and threatened to send him spiraling all over again if he thought too long about it.

Roman’s body shuddered as he tried to take a deep breath in, muscles expanding and contracting in uneven intervals. The sensation felt raw and new, and Roman struggled to take another one, struggle to remember what was going on around him, what had happened. The clothes on his back felt too light, even as they tugged against his over sensitive skin; as if these were more comfortable, but he was expecting something _more_.

“Roman?” The voice was familiar, warm, concerned. The name sat on his tongue like a heavy weight, and Roman struggled to look up from the ball he had curled himself into to see who it was.

“Val–?” His voice caught in his throat. Short hair, and ginger; things that made his stomach sink to his feet. It wasn’t black and long, the face was too round, and Roman didn’t know _why_ he was longing for those details.

“Victoria,” came the correction, gently; but the pitch all wrong, grating at his skin for reasons Roman couldn’t find words for.

“Come on, Disney Prince; five years too short for you to remember my name?”

It was teasing and familiar and friendship and wrong, wrong, wrong, _wrong._

But the words that follow still slipped out of his mouth like snakes, leaving him feeling betrayed by himself and cracking all over again: “Only when you can’t remember mine.”

His mouth snapped shut and Roman shoved his head between his knees again; wishing and hoping (dreaming–) desperately that if he tried hard enough, the whole mess would disappear and he’d–

He’d what?

“Come on, Ro’-yer-boat,” Victoria murmured, “In for four, out for eight, we’ve done this before.” And her words rang with truth, sliding down the back of his throat bitterly to rest near his aching heart. “It’s time to _Ro_ your way back down from panic-town, and then tell me who I need to murder this month.”

A choked laugh tore from his throat, and his voice slurred as a hand reached carefully to card through his hair.

“A prince doesn’t need rescuing.”

“ ‘Course not,” Victoria said, mild and fond, and Roman was hit with the thought that they’ve said this before — that they’ve _done_ this before; danced around each other in the way that only those who truly know each other do. Light touches, intimate gestures, and inside jokes. Laughter on the couch and crying over their mutual crush of Timothy in their senior year.

“It just means that we need to rewatch _Sleeping Beauty_ ,” Victoria continued, “or _Mulan_. Did we ever decide if the Beast counted?”

“His name is Adam, you _heathen_ ,” Roman bit out, raising his head to scowl at her. “And he didn’t need _saving_ he could have taken Gaston on by himself _any_ day.”

She smirked back at him, sharp against her round face. And it was familiar; it was _safe_. It was settling, even if he still felt like someone had carved a limb off of him.

“Mmhmm,” Victoria agreed. “Which is why Belle had to come back to save the day, obviously. Wait, sorry; I meant that she needed to see the _Beast_ beat Gaston.”

Roman let out a sound that he insisted was a frustrated screech. Victoria tipped back and tried to imitate the noise that had escaped his mouth.

“God, no wonder they want you on tenor even though you’re a bass. You can hit some high notes.”

Roman flailed his arm to shove at his best friend—yes, that was it, that’s who she was now. _His best friend._ He remembered that now as he could center himself in the here and now.

“Hey!” he said defensively. “I am a man, a manly man. A man who is—”

He trailed off, deja vu hitting him in the chest that wheezed the amusement and friendly frustration out of his words.

And there it was again. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, reaching for something— _anything_ —to grasp onto in the distance; almost as if someone had cut off wings that he had used to fly, and now he was about to fall into an endless darkness. But even then he couldn’t help but inch closer, his hand brushing against the awareness that—

“Roman?” His head snapped up and he met Victoria’s concerned green eyes. “Seriously, Ro, you alright? You haven’t had this bad of an attack in forever.”

Her eyes swept over his face, and he realized that he couldn’t quite meet them. His fingers traced patterns on his T-shirt, waiting for the thick silence to break; something more than his need to be perfect holding his tongue. The light cotton twisted in his hands and, finally, Victoria sighed.

“Fine,” she bit out, “I’ll figure it out eventually. But you have to let me drive you home.”

She held her hand out, wiggling her fingers at him. What she wanted struck like lightning and one of his hands dropped down to curl around his keys protectively. Her eyebrow ticked up, and her lips thinned.

“We had a deal, Front- _Ro_ -Seats,” she said sternly. “I get to help with your attacks if you get to help with mine. You’re in no condition to be driving.”

“I can drive just fine,” he snapped back and her eyebrow climbed even higher. He fought back a flush at the action and heaved himself up from the ground to prove his point. Everything tilted and spun, his stomach heaving at the sudden movement as fuzz gathered at the edges of his vision. A hand planted itself at his elbow, steadying and the only thing that kept him from tipping over and hitting the ground once more.

“Just fine, eh?” Victoria mused as she helped him find the world under his feet and gather his bearings. He blinked rapidly, leaning against his shorter friend and letting his eyes sweep through the dark room they were in. Shelves lined up neatly against the walls with boxes sorted on them stared back at him and he put more of his weight on Victoria.

“How ‘bout we make another deal?”

Roman’s eyes drifted down to look at her, and he narrowed his eyes at the smirk and glint in her eyes. He sniffed and straightened best as he could.

“I will not fall for any of your ill-advised schemings—”

“You can drive,” Victoria cut in and Roman felt his mouth slam shut. She grinned at him, nudging him forward, before finishing, “If you skip theater practice tonight.”

A high pitched whine gathered in his throat and slipped from between his teeth.

“But Viiiiiic,” he whined.

“Nope,” she said triumphantly, popping her lips before half-singing, “You had it coming.”

Roman was torn between excitement at the theater reference or feeling betrayed that she’d make him choose between his love of theater and his need to fend for himself.

“Tick tock; Roman’s running on, running on fumes now. Roman’s totally fried!”

Roman couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face even as he shoved at Vic, causing them both to stumble. Victoria took one look at his face and burst into laughter, which set him off in turn, and Roman bent over laughing until his chest hurt and he could pretend that’s why everything still felt like it was still a step off; like everything was an inch to the left from where it was supposed to be.

“I’ll take that to mean theater,” Victoria said smugly when they had calmed down, and dug her hand into his pocket to grab his keys. Roman leaned into the warmth of her body and closed his eyes to gather himself, trying to remember what had happened, and pretending that his best friend wasn’t dragging him out of work like an invalid.

He tried to straighten as they slipped out of the restaurant, pushing up against Vic’s shoulders as people stared at them. Their eyes weighed heavy on the back of his neck and the smile that spread on his face felt as plastic as the fakes he wore for theater. Be tall, be proud, be strong he reminded himself. He was fabulous, he was a prince and he was (supposed to be) better than this.

But that didn’t change the weight against his chest as Victoria led him to his own car and he couldn’t help but collapse into the passenger seat in exhaustion. He couldn’t even remember why he had panicked and the thought clamped around his neck like a shackle. He was at work, doing something with the stove and then...nothing. There was nothing that he could think of that would have set him off, and if Vic found out then she’d worry. And Roman wasn’t supposed to be worrying her anymore.

He ruthlessly suppressed a flinch as Victoria slammed the driver’s door shut and started his Honda up. The engine struggled for a heart-stopping moment before catching and she turned to grin at him.

“Looks like your baby survives yet another day,” she teased and Roman glowered at her, gather the remains of his pride about him like a cloak.

“Don’t insult Jasmine! She’s a beauty that you just can’t understand,” he protested, pulling himself up to his full height  and puffing his chest out as Victoria laughed. She smirked and—

_—the expression softened his eye shadow_ (who was he? He looked just like him, but why; Roman was an only child, he grew up _alone_ ) _which had been lighter lately._

_“I think I understand just fine, Princey. It’s you who’s a little delusional.”_

_And his smirk—_

“Now look here, Virge, just because you can’t see the beauty that is _Aladdin—_ ” His mouth shut off, the banter falling to the floor in tense silence as Victoria’s eyes flickered from the road.

“Virge is a new one,” she said, voice light and quiet. “Not sure where it came from to be honest; one of your weaker nicknames, Roman.”

“Well–” He struggled for an explanation, the image already fading from his mind no matter how desperately he tried to hold on to it. It was a dream and he was waking up and the loss of it was inevitable no matter how much Roman wished otherwise.

“Well, you push me to the _verge_ of snapping, so– so there.”

She hummed in response, and Roman averted his eyes to the window as their town passed them by slowly. He was fine, and if he repeated it enough then maybe they would both believe it. He was the one that looked out for her; the hero, the dreamer, the one that pushed for them to move out and away from their parents to spread their wings. And if he was honest, it scared him, this relapse.

He didn’t want to go home.

“Hey.” Victoria wasn’t looking at him, her voice hesitant in a way that he couldn’t remember hearing from her. “You can talk to me Roman, no matter what it is. We’ll get through whatever it is.”

He bit down on the thought that he didn’t even know what _this_ was; that he was just as much in the dark as she was.

The engine idled, a white noise and then Vic spoke up again, stronger and back to teasing sass so fast he almost thought the moment was imagined; “And if James has been saying anything again, then I can’t guarantee that I won’t need your help to hide a body.”

Roman latched onto the out, helplessly grateful and unwilling to show it. “I am not some damsel in distress in need of rescuing! I am the prince! James is in no way a villian that I cannot slay, with words and wit.”

Her response was warm and fond as they pulled into the lot for their apartment complex. “I have no doubt Roman. I have no doubt.”

* * *

Victoria slammed Jasmine's door closed behind her, hand brushing against the battered car's edge as she watched Roman stumble out of the other side. She gnawed on her bottom lip, wondering if she should call the Doc about what had happened.  
  
—her heart had stopped when Roman had stumbled towards the oven he had been working at, and it was only a coworker's quick thinking that had kept him from getting burned. Waiting with bated breath for him to calm down enough to recognize her, for her to even try and talk him down—  
  
Vic shook her head, and straightened her back. Now wasn't the time for panic. That was later. When she could lock her door behind her. Right now, she needed to help Roman.  
  
She reached out an arm, and smirked at him. Offering to help directly would get his hackles up but—  
  
"Yo, Disney Prince, give this princess an escort?"  
  
—something a little more covert, he'd accept. Roman hooked his arm through hers and Victoria struggled not to stagger as he leaned against her. Fuck, he needed to sleep and she needed to go panic in privacy. She refused to make things worse for him.  
  
"Of course!" Roman said grandly, a tone that Vic might have believed was a good sign if he wasn't putting half his weight on her. "Whatever your heart desires Vic-zen! Say the word, and I shall do my best to provide! Though, if it's expensive enough, it may have to wait until I'm rich and famous while you live in my basement—"  
  
Vic's lips twitched up. "Your basement? I take offence to that, I at least, deserve a walk-in closet on the third floor instead. Free therapy for all the suffering your riches and fame bring you."  
  
Roman grinned back at her; bright and delighted, yet it didn't match his usual exuberance. Still better than their senior year though.

"You're right, of course you're right. I'll stick you right in next to my hundreds of shoes and my dresses."

She hip-checked him with a laugh, tugging at his arm to direct him towards the elevator. The knot in her chest tightened when he didn't protest, didn't joke about leg-day or how Mr. Schneider would have his head if he didn't remain in some form of shape for his lead parts. She brought her other hand up to tuck gently into the crook of his elbow.  
  
Roman leaned into the touch. Something in Victoria screamed as they fell silent in the elevator, not even a hum to go with the cheesy music. She tapped her foot in time with the beat, but it echoed strangely without Roman's smooth voice joining in. The action stuttered, and Vic shrugged as the doors slid up, ignoring the concerned glance that Roman sent her way.  
  
She wasn't the one who had a panic attack at work, so he had no right to speak. Or judge. Or whatever. He also wasn't in the shape to try and untangle one of her many, many problems at the moment; that was clear.

They shuffled towards their apartment, and Victoria leaned into Roman's touch herself. Home. They were home, and they could figure things out from there. They always had. Or Roman had, and she had let herself be dragged along by his excitement and passion and _life_.

Vic dug in her pocket for Roman's car keys, and the key to their home that would be on it as well. She played with the small trinket of Olaf on the end of the keychain for a moment before sliding it into place and ushering Roman inside.

Roman made a beeline for the couch and she caught the back of his jacket with a scowl.

"Noooo," she whined. "Sleep in a real bed, Ro. You'll feel better, I promise."

Roman pouted at her, swaying in his spot.

"Then can I sleep in your bed. I– don't wanna be alone right now, it almost feels like the shadows will swallow me whole, listening to my never ending screams. Oh Horatio, to be or not to be, what is life, but another name for suffering–?"

"Oooookay," Victoria pressed her hands to his back and shoved him towards his room. "You're waxing again, Simba, which means I'm going to make you some hot cocoa and cookies, and _then_ you're going to sleep."

"Don't deserve you," Roman mumbled as he leaned against his bedroom door.

Victoria felt her eyes and smile soften, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek.

"Got it backwards as usual, Ro. B-r-b; don't fall asleep here, or you'll be stuck on the floor and ruin all your beauty and complexion or whatever."

"Meeeeeean, " Roman whined, "You're being mean to meeeee. I am a wonderful, beautiful, talented person who deserves to be pampered, and looked after, and taken to bed when I fall asleep in weird pla—"

Roman snapped his mouth shut, teeth clicking from the force of it. Victoria bit her own tongue as his eyes glazed over. She pressed a hand to his arm.

"I'm going to get that food alright?"

"Yeah," Roman said, his tone distant. "Yeah, a second cookie right?"

Victoria clenched her jaw and didn't reply. She turned her back, hating the very thought of it and hurried to the kitchen.

Maybe he was just tired. It had been a particularly bad attack today—his first in a while—so it wasn't weird that he was acting weird.

...right?

She sighed, bag of store bought cookies in one hand and hot cocoa in the other. The weirdest thing though was, well...

Roman's eyes brightened as she returned, hands making grabbing motions for the sweets she offered him. The weirdest thing was not how tight lipped Roman was being about the problem but how he kept zoning out.

It was like he was seeing something she couldn't. Or remembering something, but there wasn't anything that he would want to remember that she didn't already know. At least, she thought so. She hoped so.

God, she hoped so.


	2. Chapter 2

_Grief_ _was not unfamiliar to him, but he didn’t know why it was hitting him so hard. The tears wouldn’t stop and the idea of opening his eyes was suddenly a nightmare. The voices around him weren’t the ones that he was looking for, he was missing something, he was incomplete, he was alone._

_One step in front of the other, he tried to remind himself, but he couldn’t remember where he had heard it and it was important; it was so so important._

_He had gotten– he had gotten– there wasn’t a weight on his shoulder there was supposedtobesomethingthere– Wherediditgo– Heneededit—_

_He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t calm down, he needed to calm down, he needed the others, but he didn’t know who the others were. There was only the unshakable belief that he needed them and they needed him and then—_

_Hands on his forehead–_ _  
_ _and darkness._

* * *

Roman woke with a gasp, throwing his covers off and bolting upright in his bed. The silence of the night pressed down on him as the shadows grew, and the hand against his chest could feel the pounding of his heart. Panic clung to him even as the impressions of his nightmare faded into the depths of his mind. The only thing he could hear was his ragged breathing for several long moments, the sense of something being wrong hitting him harder than ever.

He swung his bare feet off of his bed and padded quietly out of his own room. He noticed that the light under Victoria’s door was off as he crept passed it.

Once he finally reached the kitchen, he started rummaging around for the coffees and teas that he knew Logan kept for nights like this.

His hand froze over a box of poptarts and tried to process that thought. A little frown creased his face, his thoughts mulling over if he knew any Logans and why he would ever think one of them would be in the apartment he shared with Vic. The name certainly felt familiar; like if he said it, the word would roll off the tongue as easily as Victoria’s did, _which didn’t make sense_.

Victoria had been his best friend for years; and even before that, there weren’t many people in junior high that he would have called his relatively “close” friends. Roman had put too much effort into being popular for that to be the case; at least, until theater had caught his heart and he had kissed his popularity among the jocks goodbye to chase his dreams.

But something about that memory felt false, even if at the same time it felt grounded in a way that the rest of him wasn’t in that moment. A part of him insisted that he had never gone to school at all; that the very idea was ridiculous. It was insane and he assumed it was probably just his exhaustion talking, but the thought wouldn’t stop nagging him.

He pulled his hand away from the cupboard and scrubbed at his face. He debated on if he could get away with taking a shower, or if he would just wake Vic up and lead to her trying to talk him out of going to work tomorrow morning. He didn’t need to be babysat. And he certainly didn’t want to have to see her take half glances of worry in his directions for the rest of the week, making his skin prickle all the while.

He could take care of himself. He had always taken care of himself.

“Ro’?” The quiet voice came from behind him, and Roman spun in his heels to find his roommate shuffling into the room. Victoria rubbed at her eyes as she leaned into his side, a warm reminder of where he was at the moment.

“You okay?”

“Certainly Sleeping Beauty!” he declared, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and steered her back towards her room. “But I’m thinking that your curse is not yet ready to be lifted, and you should be getting back to sleep.”

“Mean,” she muttered in response. He smirked.

“You can thank this handsome prince for the rescue in the morning,” he replied, and gently tipped her door open.

He stepped over the textbooks scattered around the floor, and swept her into his arms before setting her down onto the mattress. Tucking the blanket around her chin came naturally and he turned to leave her room.

A tug on his shirt jolted him back, and he glanced down to stare at the hand that gripped his pajamas, tightly keeping him in place. He tangled his fingers through her’s and gently pried them off.

“Sleep well, Lil’ Lilo.” He bent down and kissed her knuckles gently. She smiled. “Stitch will have breakfast ready for you in the morning.”

Roman slipped out of the room, and snagged his phone before wandering back to the kitchen. Selecting one of his Disney playlists, Roman found a recipe for biscuits and gravy—simple enough that even he could do it—and adjusted his earbud as he got to work.

He hummed along out of habit, letting the familiar tones and easy motions calm him down. He mouthed along to _Mulan_ , twirling the spoon into a mic as he danced towards the fridge to grab what he needed for the gravy.

The sun painted the horizon, bleeding in brilliant colors of orange and pink as the clouds turned gold. The biscuits slid easily into the oven, and Roman spun around again, the first chords of “Why Should I Worry” playing through his headphones. The final shadows of his nightmare melted away at the familiar lyrics, at his feet tapping against the tiles of the kitchen, and the sun’s rays making their way through the window.

He kicked off one of their chairs, stepping onto the scratched table and sliding neatly off as he lost himself in the music of his heart, dancing to choreography only he knew. But even then, the silent thought that it wasn’t quite perfect crept in. It always had been better with Victoria, after all.

Lifts and dips, tripping over her clumsy feet as they sung at the top of their lungs until one of the neighbors complained and they fell into a pile of limbs. Even when it hadn’t been just the two of them, Victoria’s mother working upstairs, Victoria’s breathless laughter had felt like coming home. It was someplace _safe_ , someplace where he felt like he was wanted and... _that_ was perfect.

“—man!” Victoria's voice cut through his thoughts, and he beamed at her before she rushed past him and the expresion faltered. She lunged for the oven and yanked the door open, smoke billowing out of the appliance.

She coughed, stumbling back, and Roman let out a shriek.

“The biscuits!” He reached for them, jerking as Victoria yanked him back.

“The hel– heck Roman?” She let go of his wrist and hurried to turn off the smoke alarm, her hair sticking up in all directions. “Don’t go reaching for the _burning_ food.”

“But– but– but _breakfast!_ ” he wailed, trailing after her and sending a pout in her direction. “It’s all ruined and now you’ll be late to class!”

She pinched her nose, and Roman sighed, dropping the drama and reach out to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

“I just wanted you to have something nice this morning.” His voice softened.

“The thought is appreciated,” Vic murmured, her face softening with fondness. “But really Ro–”

_“–man,” Logan said, glasses firmly back in place. “You need to be more logical about the situation. Getting injured for us is not ideal.” He reached a hand out—_

—and Vic’s small hand tapped his cheek, her face cross.

“Roman, did you hear me?”

“Of course, Aurora dear!” he chimed instinctively, naturally; even as he fought down another rise of panic. “I must take care not to get injured while fighting the valiant beast in the kitchen!”

He winked at her. “After all, it is the princess who gets pricked.”

Victoria shoved at him, smothering giggles.

“Good,” she said, grinning back at him, “because this princess wants a prince to take her out for breakfast if he’s so insistent on providing it.”

“Yes! Fabulous idea!” Roman exclaimed. “We shall have a morning out on the town, treating ourselves to our hearts desires!”

She laughed, stepping away from him.

“Well, I’m going to get a shower in and get ready and you’d better at least change your clothes.” She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him, adding, “Seeing as you smell like smoke.”

Roman knew that half of the reason that the affronted noise escaped his mouth was because she was expecting it, and he was always one to provide.

But as Victoria disappeared around the corner, Roman felt his smile disappear.

Patton had the bad habit of worrying anyways, so it wasn’t like—

Roman slumped back, hitting the wall and burying his hands in his hair.  He didn’t know a Patton. There was no Logan with teas and coffee and books and no infuriating insistence on reality and rationality. No late night banter and comfort. There was no Virgil to marathon Disney with, to discuss makeup and to throw nicknames back as if they were softer words they could never really say.

Because it was all the result of _stress_. His best friend was _Victoria_ and she was who would watch movies with him, would stay up late to talk about things, would- would-

There was an endless gaping hole in his heart, something that insisted that there was more to this than a few bad days. Roman pressed a hand against his chest, trying to patch a pain that wasn’t there in the end.

What the hell was wrong with him?

* * *

 What the hell was wrong with him?

Victoria leaned her head back against the vibrating bus window and closed her eyes. Roman had never been the most consistent sleeper, but he only attempted breakfast when he was upset. Sometimes Vic wondered if he even noticed that it was something that he did; it was almost like an automatic soothing action that was turn over from late nights at her house.

She ran a finger over her textbooks and sighed, hiking her bag up over her shoulder as the vehicle shuddered to a stop. She let the crowd push her towards the door, ignoring the way that the jostling of elbows made her skin prickle. She’d deal with it at her next appointment with the Doc, hopefully when everything felt less like slogging through molasses.

Picani would probably make a pun about things getting under her skin again, but not even that thought could get her lips to twitch upwards.

Victoria could feel the sun against her back as she turned towards the old theater that Roman rehearsed at; the faded red standing out among the dull grey and whites of the city. Mr. Schneider had talked about its prime once; once soaked in ruby red and brilliant gold, accompanied with a line that curled around the block, filled to the brim with people eager to see a show.

She would have appreciated the fact more if he hadn’t told them about it in the middle of a test. Sadist. Something about focus and precision, but Vic had been too panicked about answering her questions to focus.

Victoria shrugged the memory off. She scanned the area for Jasmine, knowing that if the car was there then so was Roman. She really didn’t have the energy to walk home, so she crossed her fingers and her shoulders relaxed at the sight of the blue honda near the back. Not that Roman would leave without her, or skip practice without being made to. At least normally.

Who knew what he’d do right now?

The thought cracked through her apathy and Victoria strode towards the building a little faster. Her lips pulled downward, eyes locking onto the sight of Roman leaning against the window, muttering under his breath. Not good. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but she knew she needed to get him out of his head.

He shuddered, arms coming up to grasp at himself. Victoria walked faster.

She was almost close enough when he leaned back and swiped at his face, the sight breaking her heart.

“Well someone’s late for practice,” she joked with an energy she didn’t feel, and Roman stiffened for half a second before whirling around, grin in place and hands thrown out.

“Victory, for the Roman Empire arrives!” he proclaimed, and pushed on the door behind in to sweep it open, bowing in the same motion. “My lady, the greatest show of the decade awaits you behind these doors. Drama, love, crime! All this and more, I can promise you—”

Victoria cackled, shoving the textbook in her hand at his face. It didn’t feel quite real to her, but from the way he grinned back at her it was real enough for Roman. He swept a hand through the lobby as they crossed it.

“History was made here madam, how could you not see it?!”

“Probably because I’m next to history’s Greatest Ro-man,” Victoria teased, a trickle of warmth leaking into her chest at the way Roman grinned even wider. The lobby was empty; echoing with their footsteps and Victoria wanted to stop and try to feel the history of the small hall. All the people who had walked there before them.

Victoria nudged Roman before turning to find a corner she could study and watch at the same time in. She normally settled around the sounds and lights board, seeing as it had the best view and a flat surface she could use at the same time. The techies didn’t mind her being there, so win-win.

Her head snapped up at the side door opening, and she watched the older man who entered stride down the stage towards Roman. Mr. Schneider caught Roman in the middle of the aisle and Vic caught her lower lip again with her teeth.

“Well, well, well,” the director said dryly. “If it isn’t one half of Team Rocket. Where’s the double to your trouble?”

Victoria couldn't see the professor’s face, but from the way that Roman paled under his hasty grin, it wasn’t a pleasant expression.

“Mr. Schneider!” Vic winced at his tone. “Jessie is in the back as she always is, but James is here and ready to serve!”

“Way to sell me out,” she muttered under her breath, tapping a finger against her textbook. Still, she smiled for the first time since she had left Roman after breakfast. The director really was good for him.

“Well, Jessie better be studying for my class with how she struggled last semester on it.”  Mr Schneider raised his voice and Victoria rolled her eyes as snickers broke out through the theater. Traitors, the lot of them.

“Only if you stop putting deliberate typos in your tests, you sadist!” Victoria called back, and the snickers broke out into full on guffaws. English was hard enough without him making her puzzle what his questions meant, goddammit. The more time she spent on that was less time she spent on her psychology!

“Come on pretty boy, time to get to work. Show me what you got today.” Mr. Schneider said, and Victoria watched as Roman hurried to join the others with a nod. She grinned, turning to her own work as he relaxed into the role he was born for.

Acting.

At first it was great. Victoria plowed through the essay she needed to do for Mr. Schneider's class, and every time she hit the end of a paragraph, or Roman said something particularly loud she looked up to grin at him. The more she did it the more real it felt, and her chest relaxed as the rehearsal went on. She could put the incidents out of her mind.

It had simply been Roman on edge. Stressed from work and life.

Only then—

He flinched, and Victoria's eyes cut to what he was looking at.

Nothing.

All she could make out was the light reflecting off the glass window they had put up for one of the scenes. He didn't stumble over his lines, which meant she would have vaulted over to drag him out, but Vic chewed on her lip in thought.

They were flat. Exhausted, and every time he tried to get the energy back he'd flinch again.

She sighed. Her papers shuffled as she gathered them all up early, shoving them haphazardly into her bag. Her footsteps down the aisle were muffled by the thick carpet and covered by Mr Schneider's loud voice calling out for a break. She hovered around the edge of the stage as the actors finished up.

She had a feeling that she would be needed. And maybe a little something more as well.

* * *

 As they finished for the day, and one of the others actors handed out water bottles, Mr. Schneider eyed them all.

“Overall, good work everyone. Tamara, you’re still stiff on your delivery; loosen up your words and movements and it’ll be more convincing. Tazo, you’re late on your lines; I want you to hit the scripts again for a little while, read until you don’t have to think about your lines any more.”

His eyes swept over the cast, ruthless in his analysis.

“Charles, kid, you gotta stop turning away from the audience; it cripples your voice. Lillian, you need to enunciate more; speak from your chest and you’ll get more from every line. Symphony, Sym, you are not the lead here; stop trying to draw attention to yourself, and just let the character flow.”

Mr. Schneider paused and looked at Roman.

“You full of energy today Roman, but I don’t feel the passion; the emotion. You need to center yourself, Trouble —take a day off maybe, get back into character. Otherwise, like I said great work today.” There was clattering as everyone split up and started to help clean up.

Roman tried to follow after Lillian, only to be cut off with a, “Not you Roman, we need to talk.”

Roman pivoted, and blinked. Mr. Schneider eyed him, and Roman frantically ran through what he looked like. His hair should be in place, clothes impeccable as always, and he had managed not to cry during his panic attack, so his eyes should be fine as well.

“Of course, Mr. Schneider! Being the lead and all I suppose you’d want to have a few extra words to make sure everything goes as fabulously as I am.”

One of the other cast members made an amused scoffing noise from behind him, and the director rolled his eyes. He waved a wrinkled hand, and Roman trotted after him, slipping off of the stage and making his way through the rows.

The older man stared at him for a long moment before sighing.

“Kid, look, I know that you don’t like to talk about whatever’s bothering you–” Roman stiffened, his grin becoming fixed on his face. “–but you need to, at least with Double. It’s never affected your acting like this, so I’ve left it alone. But I don’t want you back until you get your head on straight, alright?”

Roman bit down on the protests that leapt to his tongue at the look Mr. Schneider gave him and nodded sulkily instead.

“Good.” The director clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got talent, kid; you could go places so long as you apply yourself.”

Roman nodded again, even though he refused to met the man’s eyes, and Mr. Schneider sighed, ambling away. It stung, and Roman wanted to wallow in the feeling. Nothing was going right, so why bother at all? He had thought that things were getting better — that he could feel as confident as he acted. But the mask was slipping through his fingers like sand.

“Hey,” Victoria said softly, taking a seat next to him and leaning on the arm rest. Her eyes raked over him, and his hackles raised in response. He knew he wouldn’t get pity from her, but a lifetime of habits made it feel that way. He didn’t want to be seen as weak, he wasn’t weak, he _wasn't._

“I’m hungry,” she said instead, nudging his arm lightly with her elbow. “And I think a certain thespian as earned some ice cream and eye candy, don’t you?”

She wiggled her eyebrows at him, and Roman couldn’t help the way that he relaxed and snickered at her suggestion. They weren’t the kind of people who actually talked about their problems, but they’d help out either way.

Roman took the hand she offered him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they left.

“Truly an auspicious quest!” he declared, a hand waving out in front of them. “A true test of our ability to discern the fashion around us; a hope deep in our hearts, that perhaps this one will be our one true love!”

Victoria cackled, and Roman grinned as sunlight streamed through the theater doors. It had only been a day, whatever was going on, whoever his doppelgangers were, he wasn’t going to let that stop him.

He had the world’s best friend, a director who cared, and an endless horizon ahead of him. And for now at least, pretty boys to gawk at and giggle about with Victoria.

The ice cream shoppe—and it was a _shoppe,_ Vic, don’t laugh at him—they frequented was a quiet one, on the corner right before the strip mall, and was the perfect place to people watch.

It was only about the size of their apartment, painted over every year with a fresh coat of white paint, and the windows glittered with it’s name.

 _Darcy’s Ice Cream._ It’s true value came not only from the astounding flavors that it offered, but the wide covered porch. Shaded from the sun and littered with round metal tables, Roman and Victoria could settle down and watch pedestrians walk by for hours. The dark blue tables also came with some of the most comfortable chairs in existence that Roman ever had the honor to sit upon.

The fact that Darcy, the owner, had gotten to know the two of them fairly well over the last year and a half was only the cherry on top. The middle aged woman was already scoping out their usual flavors as the bell on the door jingled, and they entered. The dark skinned woman raised an eyebrow at them, and smirked.

“You lovebirds gonna scare off more of my customers today?” she asked, sliding the mint choco-chip with peanuts and sprinkles on top to Victoria.

“How dare–” Roman said as he took his own rainbow sherbet with whipped cream. “We would _never_ do such a thing to Queen of such a kingdom. Truly our presence here only encourages others to return as well, spreading your magnificent craft throughout the land.”

“And talking to hot boys while we do,” Victoria chimed in with a smirk.

“And finding the prince of our dreams!” Roman agreed, bouncing on his heels. “One day our prince will come!”

“You mean, someday,” Victoria corrected with a laugh.  “And I’ll only be his love bird if it’s platonic. No offence Ro’, but this Prince isn’t my type.”

“Well, I am sunshine and rainbows,” Roman mused. “Or just rainbows. Full rainbow, all the time.”

Victoria laughed and Darcy rolled her eyes again, muscled arms leaning against the counter. Victoria’s hand reached for her wallet, but Darcy waved her off.

“Now you two have a good time, ya here? And don’t worry about paying this time, just so long as you come back again. Can’t go losing my two best customers because they’re broke.”

“Thanks, Darcy!” Vic chimed back, practically shoving Roman out the door and onto the porch as he cackled.

Cars passed them by, and Roman slipped into their usual spot, leaning against the cool wall behind him. The sky wasn’t cloudless, but the fluffy white ones that drifted through it were quite the sight anyways. Victoria pressed against his side and waved her spoon at the first group that passed the shoppe by.

“The one on the left,” she said. “I’d give him a seven. Nice jacket, but he’s trying too hard with the hair. You can see the product from here.”

Roman tilted his head to get a better look at the boy she was talking about. Dirty blonde hair, heavily styled — and yeah he could see what Vic meant by too much product, the tips practically shined, but his cheekbones were to _die_ for.

He let out a soft wheeze. “The shoulders though, Vic, look at those _shoulders_. Hair can be salvaged, but _that_. That is true beauty.”

Victoria snickered and leaned a little bit more against his shoulder.

“I thought you were more of a darker hair type?” she teased, and Roman fought not to flail his arms. He failed. She slipped down towards the table and cracked up at the expression on his face. He sputtered at her, and ignored the looks that the group walking by sent them.

“ _I_ will have you know,” he shouted, “that I do not have a _type_. There are men worth loving of all shapes and sizes and colors! Just– just because most of my boyfriends have been—”

“Don’t forget your crushes,” she managed to wheeze out between her cackles. “And your celebrity crushes, and the posters on your walls and—”

“I hate you!” he screeched. “So. Much.”

“Awww come on, _FRo Forever,_ you love me and you know it,” Vic cooed, and then wildly pointed to the next group as Roman took a sulky bite of his sherbet. He muttered under his breath about traitor best friends and how he’d get his revenge, but obligingly turned his head to look at the men making their way towards the strip mall. He snickered and pointed at the lankiest one there was, long hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“What about him?” Roman teased. Vic’s eyes snapped from one of the females and onto the one that he gestured at, and she flushed bright red.

“What about him?” she muttered, sinking down into her chair even more. The boy threw his head back in a laugh and Victoria squeaked in response. Roman cackled at her response, and nudged her again.

“No witty comeback?” He smirked victoriously and waved his spoon grandly, “After all, it’s not like he’s perfect. Easy on the eyes I admit—”

They both froze as he turned and there on his chest, proudly displayed were a series of buttons. Disney, LGTBQ+ pride; Roman swore that  he caught sight of a Heathers quote and gasped in absolute surprise. Victoria laid her head on the table, and Roman reached out to sweep her hair away from her melting ice cream out of habit.

“Oh my godmother,” he whispered. “He is perfect. Look! Look at that Vic!” She let out a half hiss, half moan for him to shut up. “He’s Prince Charming, he’s– he’s– he’s—”

“Walking away, Ro,” Victoria reminded him, reminded both of them. Though she did prop her hand up and let her eyes trail after the eye candy fondly.

“ ‘Solo quest to save ourselves,’ you said,” Victoria grumbled. “ ‘No time for romance till you love yourself,’ you said. ‘It’s a great idea,’ I said. I agreed to _all_ of this! And now the man of my dreams is walking away.”

They sat in silence for a moment before she finally said, “He probably didn’t shower enough anyways.”

“What!” Roman protested, “Did you see that hair?”

“Never cuts it,” she singsonged, way too amused but the affronted look on his face. “And that fashion sense; those shoes with those jeans?”

“You know nothing of fashion! You wear whatever comes out of your closet first!” Roman screeched back. “It would be even more of a disaster if I hadn't picked everything out for you. Which, you’re welcome by the way; now you look fabulous everyday.”

“Awwww,” Victoria cooed again, and grinned at him. “Thanks, Roman; you’re the best and we both know it. I’ll make sure to mention it in your biography after you’re rich and famous.”

“You’re the worst,” Roman replied, fighting to keep the grin off his face. But then, whatever she said was drowned put by the rushing in his ears.

 _There_. The world tunneled in on the next group walking by; _glasses and a necktie_ , something in him whispered. Something familiar and important and he felt like screaming. In panic or in joy; it didn’t matter.

What did matter was that the figure was getting away; that they were turning the corner _without him_ , and Roman was on his feet before he could think about it. Their head was turned, and they smirked at something their friend was saying, and Roman was so _close_. His hand reached out and—

“Woah!”

“What the hell?”

“What’s wrong with you man?”

Roman took a heaving breath and let go of the shirt had had gripped with white knuckled intensity. The face in front of him swam into vision, and it wasn’t anything like his own. It was too angular, too long and he felt his heart drop for the hundredth time recently. The group stared at him and he straightened, clearing his throat.

“Ah, um, my apologies I thought you were someone else,” he murmured, glancing away and feeling suddenly drained. The group exchanged glances, and Roman could hear Victoria approaching from behind him.

One of their eyes softened, and they offered a sympathetic smile.

“It happens all the time man, don’t worry about it. Out of curiosity...who are you looking for? You seemed psyched to see him.”

Roman blinked and felt whatever word he wanted freeze on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t know them, didn’t know these figures he kept seeing, but he _did_ and they were infinitely important. They were his arms, and legs, and heart, and brain, and everything, and he didn’t know how to put into words that they were _him_ , they were parts of a whole.

“My–” he stumbled, “He was my brother.

Nowhere near close, but it was enough for now, and the label settled on his shoulders. Comforting as a well worn cloak or cape. A hand landed on his elbow and he met Victoria’s worried eyes.

“Hope you find him, man,” the man offered, and the others wandered away chiming in with their agreements. Roman watched them walk away with dull eyes and leaned into Victoria’s touch. He wanted them to be real, he finally admit to himself. He wanted that closeness and comfort and feeling of being _whole._

“Roman?” Victoria asked softly. “Since when do you have a brother?”

“I don’t,” he tried to reassure her, but it came out choked and too sob like for his comfort. Because he didn’t. He was missing a Logan and a Patton and a Virgil, and without them there was no—

_Thomas_

And as Victoria’s arms wrapped around him, infinitely gentle, he broke down into sobs.


	3. Chapter 3

_Logically, he was fine. Nothing was wrong, and his schedule was on track. He was progressing adequately, and other than his new propensity to think redundantly in order to avoid thoughts of_ them _he was more efficient than ever. He wasn’t grieving, or missing anyone, he wasn’t._

_He was learning and in that, he found his joy. He was joyful, he was. He was alone; except for his roommate and he was learning and in the best college in the area and—_

_Why didn’t he feel fulfilled? Why didn’t the pressure on his chest ease? Determined to ignore it, he pushed himself harder, faster, better. His hand shook as he took notes and he was_ fine _._

_He was fine, he was fine, he was fine, he was fine—_

* * *

 Roman rolled out of bed, pressing a hand to his mouth to muffle his sobs. There was an endless pressure on his chest and he fought to breathe deeply. His hands shook, and his whole body shuddered for a long moment.

That was _Logan;_ he was certain. Roman didn’t know how or why, but it left him with bone-deep certainty that nothing was alright.

Twice, the calmer part of his mind pointed out, that was _twice_ now that he had feelings things weren’t okay with the others. The only way that could happen was if they were _alive_ and still connected. The rest of him felt even more hysterical, screaming about insanity and crying about how much like Logan and Virgil he was reminded of right now.

Nothing was alright, and everything made him feel even more fragile the longer it went on. He needed the rest of himself, he needed to be fine, but he didn’t even know if it was true or if he had finally snapped under the pressure of his life. Victoria had joked about it, and while it was only that-joking-he couldn’t help but wonder if it was true. If he had taken on too much and gone crazy because of it.

He took a shuddering breath and struggled to stand, staggering to the computer that they kept in the apartment. He only had so much longer he could put off Victoria’s concern, and he wanted proof. Wanted to know for sure if this was real or not. Thomas had posted all of his vlogs and _Sanders Sides_ videos, and while Roman couldn’t quite put together what had been in them yet. If they were there—

Well, if they were there, then he could show them to Victoria. Reassure himself that he wasn’t insane. Hear the others’ voices for the first time in who knows how long. Panic more about how the heckity heck he had ended up as a human and not as part of Thomas’s personality. Pull himself together and start his epic quest.

He didn’t want to think about what would happen if they weren’t there.

They _had_ to be.

He booted up the computer, and winced from the sudden light in the dark apartment, scrambling to shut off the volume and waiting with bated breath for a reaction from Vic. He let out a sigh after several heartbeats and pulled up the internet, waiting for it to load with a wildly jiggling leg. The mouse jerked with his hand movements and carefully he started his search.

And that was where Vic found him hours later as the sun shone through the curtains. She let out a soft sigh, and wrapped her arms around him, hooking her chin over his shoulder.

“Oh, Ro...” she whispered. He bowed his head, and tried not to let himself shatter. He wondered if he had already been; if that moment at work was simply the world catching up with what was wrong.

Her arms tightened for a moment, before she pulled back and he couldn’t help the whine that escape from between his clenched teeth.

“Oh shoosh,” she said gently, her feet padding across the hardwood. “I’m calling you in sick today.”

His head snapped up, and the world tilted as the chair spun.

“Wait, Vic, no–” he tried to protest, and falter at her look before forging on. “I can go to work, I’m fine. Don’t call—”

“Roman Sanderson,” Victoria snapped, her voice climbing. “This is the second night you’ve been unable to sleep. You’ve had _two_ panic attacks in the last two days, and they’re worse than I’ve ever seen them. So God help me, sit your ass back down on that chair or I will strap you to it myself.”

Roman stared at her with wide eyes and his best friend glared back down at him. And oh, he could see the tears at the edges of her eyes and the way that her hand shook on the phone.

“Ok,” he said soothingly, sitting back down slowly. He held his hands out in a gentle gesture. “I’m sitting down see? Let’s just talk about this.” His own hands shook, and he longed for _Patton_ , fuzzy memories of the cheerful side telling him that he would have handled this better. He would have been able to keep himself from at least coming off as someone teetering over a cliff.

Roman struggled to find his next words. He was remembering people who didn’t exist, longing for them, and frazzeling his best friend to the edge of her own mind in the process.

Moving out here was supposed to help them, not shatter them.

“Maybe–” He swallowed hard, both literally and his pride figuratively; one day off wouldn’t be the end of the world– “Maybe you’re right and we should stay in today. Both of us. Watch some movies, unwind, and then we can—”

“We can talk,” she said flatly, “about the last couple of days.”

He nodded and offered a tremulous smile, hoping that she’d fall asleep in the middle of the third Disney movie and he could slip the talk off for at least another day. Victoria stared at him for a long moment, before she nodded stiffly, turning back to the phone. Her voice was clipped as she talked to his supervisor, and Roman busied himself with pulling up a movie for them to watch.

The tense silence choked him and he stood up, ignoring the way that Vic shot him a look, and shuffled off to find some blankets to wrap themselves in as they watched. Tradition dictated that they watch with popcorn and blankets, though it would be harder without a couch and TV. Victoria, he hoped, would make up the popcorn after she was off the phone, and then Roman could just forget everything.

(Like he had forgotten the others. Or had he? Had he made them all up? Was there something else going on? Why was he separate from Thomas in the first place? Was he the only one, was that it? Was Thomas missing his creativity and now he couldn’t make videos; had he ever done so in the first place—)

He took a deep breath and gathered as many of the blankets in their closet up into his arms. It took some shuffling of all the psychology books that Vic had tucked around the apartment, but soon he was wandering back to the main room. Victoria was sitting stiffly in her own chair, pulled up next to his, and didn’t turn to look at him as he entered.

Roman grimaced, knowing that he had thrown her into a mood and hated that he had set her off. He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders silently and settled in next to her, waiting for her to make the next move as he started up the first in their usual playlist. It took an agonizing thirty seconds before she leaned into his side and offered him the bowl of popcorn.

Normally that would be his cue that things were going to be fine, but even as _Tangled_ started, he couldn’t stop the rolling in his stomach. No matter what happened on screen, he couldn’t relax, couldn’t stop his mind from drifting back to YouTube and Tumblr and trying to find proof that Thomas had even _existed_.

They made it through only one movie before Victoria reached out and paused _Aladdin_ dashing across the screen.

“Alright,” she said finally, voice still clipped and upset. “Spill.”

Roman blinked, startled out of his thoughts and felt his muscles tense even more.

“What?” he asked. Victoria scowled at him. Her hand untangled from the blankets and she reached out to smack his arm lightly.

“You know what I mean Roman,” she insisted, “What the hell is wrong with you? It’s affect your acting. It’s affecting you _watching Disney_. And that’s not nothing. That's not fine.” Her voice shook near the end of her sentence and her chin jutted back up, sharp as Roman had ever seen her. “You’re– you’re scaring me Ro.” Her voice wobbled again, but she didn’t look away from him, reaching up to grasp his shirt instead. “I don’t want you to end up like I did, I don’t want—”

Her voice caught and tumbled down the stairs it had been trying to avoid, and Roman reached out to tug her close. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed silently into his chest, and he reached up to run a hand through her hair slowly. He worked through her curls and tangles gently, waiting for her to calm down, even as his own chest ached.

She quieted, but didn’t move and Roman let out a gusty sigh.

“I’ve been having these thoughts—” he started, and haltingly told her everything. The nightmares and the flashes and the feeling of everything being _off_. The longer he rambled, the longer Victoria stayed silent, the more it felt like he was going to lose the only thing he had left.

He trailed off, and tightened his grip on the young woman in his arms. Slowly, Victoria pulled away from him and met his eyes.

She let out a slow breath and finally said, “Ok.”

“Ok?” he asked bewildered, but Victoria shook her head, and stood up. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders tightly, before walking unsteadily to her room.

“Victoria?” Roman called, struggling to stand and reaching a hand out for her. She shook her head again and firmly shutting the door behind her.

Roman laid a hand on the wood, and tried one last time.

“Vic?” he whispered, and only silence greeted him.

* * *

 Vic slumped against the wall, burying her hands in her hair. Her whole body shuddered and her chest heaved.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered. "Should have seen the signs, should have given him more of a break, should have done more, done better, what sort of friend—"

The words caught in her throat. She tugged harshly at her hair, the pain grounding her as she tried to keep from flying apart completely. She couldn't lose it, not now, not here. Losing it would mean having to go home and Roman couldn't afford the apartment by himself meaning he'd have to go back to his parents and that would only happen over her dead body.

Which admittedly sounded rather nice at the moment.

She tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs constricted and she couldn't manage it. Her hands shook, dropping from her hair to her arms, fingernails digging into her sleeves.

Victoria had left him, just stood up and walked away. Without a word. God, she was the worst, an absolute monster. The world narrowed as she hyperventilated and she buried her head between her legs. She had to calm down, she needed to help Roman.

Could she help him though?

Tears wound down her face. She couldn't help him; she was just a student, an intern. He needed professional help, but Roman would _die_ in a facility. It would be akin to torture to stick him somewhere without stimulation; without people and art and attention.

Her fingers tangled in her sleeves even more, pinching the skin underneath. She drifted, sitting in the silence of her room. Her fingers twisted over and over, bringing pain to her arms and then releasing, over and over again until she finally started to haul herself back to sanity. She closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath once more.

In, hold, out.   
In, hold, out.

Her foot bumped against on of her textbooks and she flinched, curling back up into a ball. She couldn't do this. She had to though. For Roman. Everything for Roman, she took another deep breath. It felt that way sometimes; like she had wound her very life around his existence, even when she knew that wasn't the case. She had friends, a family, a job. She just– no matter what she did it always come back to him.

Like a magnet. He shone like the sun and Victoria couldn't help but be pulled in by his brilliance. He was life and excitement and feeling, in a world that left her cold and numb.

She tried to let go over her sleeves, prying her fingers off and shaking them out. They tingled as blood flow returned. She swiped at her face and got to her feet shakily. Technically, she was supposed to tell Roman whenever she had an attack, but with everything going on, she felt justified in skipping that step for once.

She leaned against the wall and dragged herself towards her bookshelves. She tripped over one of the many books on her floor. She crashed, elbow slamming into the floor and for a moment all she wanted to do was stay there. If Roman went insane then no one would notice anyways.

Victoria breathed heavily through her nose and grit her teeth.

“Do it for him then,” she snarled to herself.

Victoria hauled herself back to her feet and stumbled to her bed, digging through her drawer for her phone. With shaking fingers she punched in a number that she knew by heart, and flopped back as it rang.

"Dr. Picani's office," the female voice grated at her ears and Victoria squeezed her eyes shut. "How can I help you?"

"Hey Patricia, it's Vic. Is the Doc available?"

Vic heard the click of nails on a keyboard before Patricia replied, "Yeah, he's free at the moment. Though he's got an appointment in about ten minutes. This is about your next meeting for the internship, right?"

Victoria's throat closed up and she pressed a hand to her face. "Yeah, yeah that's it."

"Good, he's been expecting your call, I'll patch you through."

"Thanks, Patty."

"Whatever, don't call me that Vicky." Victoria's lips twitched upwards at the nickname.

She rolled over as the phone ringing filled her ears. She traced a pattern along her blanket, following the lines of the various Disney characters on it. She took another deep breath. It was going to be fine. She was going to be fine.

"Victoria!" The Doc's voice greeted her cheerfully, as he always did and that alone helped some of the tension in her shoulders unwind. "You ready to finalize your new job? Because I certainly am! Boy, even Patricia is excited to have you around the office!"

Vic forced a laugh, "Oh I wouldn't go that far Doc."

"It's true! She said that it would be nice to not have to file all the paperwork herself!" Picani protested, "It's a _paper-thin_ excuse though, isn't it?"

She grinned softly at her phone and leaned back against her headboard. "It really is, and that was a paper-thin joke. You can do better than that, Doc."

"Awwww shucks, your faith is edifying Victoria! But you’re calling about setting up the time for doing the last round of paperwork and setting up your hours right? I finally got everything set up with your college so we're good to go whenever you are!"

Victoria swallowed heavily.

"Yeah, that's it Doc," she said. The fake cheer slid down her throat like a bitter pill. "I want to make sure everything is in place before the end of the semester. Responsible, that's me all right. Not trying to get a jump on my procrastination at all."

She could practically hear the raised eyebrow from Dr. Picani. "I thought we talked about this Victoria. I will dig out my Opal bow if I need to."

Victoria giggled, and wondered if maybe it wasn't all fake.

"Right, right, I'm more than a little tired of being nailed with foam arrows. I'm coping, you know? Dealing with things before I'm hit with another episode and I get nothing done for a week."

"Better," Picani said warmly. "Just what I expected from a young woman at the top of her class. Does next week work for you? We can get it done before your appointment time, if you can come in early?"

A week. Victoria closed her eyes and slumped down even lower on her bed. The soft blankets ran across her skin as she took a steadying breath. That would mean she'd have that long to figure out just what the hell was wrong with Roman. Which would be a pain to do alone on top of all the classes she had to keep up with as well.

Damn her schedule.

"Yeah!" she agreed. If she didn't make any progress by that point, maybe then she'd bring it up with the Doc. As a hypothetical, something she could take back if needed. It would be flimsy but Vic refused to put Roman in a situation where they'd want him put away with or without his consent.

The fact that she was already thinking in those terms didn't escape her.

Denial had always been her friend in the end.

"Sounds like a plan," Picani said, voice warm and proud. The familiar tone washed over her as her shoulders relaxed before locking up again as she heard him add, "But are you sure that's all you wanted to talk about? You're rather off right now. I don't like my patients to be singing ‘Full Disclosure’, you know that!"

Victoria blinked and chewed on her lip. "You know not everyone would understand that SU reference, Doc."

"But you do! And don't think I didn't notice that deflection, Victoria. What's wrong?"

She rolled over, letting herself pretend that the weight on her chest was herself and not anything more than that. "Nothing Doc, really. You know me, I'd say something if it was really bad! We can talk more face to face!"

Picani hummed, "You are exceptional with communication, at least, until Roman's involved—"

"Sorry Doc, something came up, I have to go!" Victoria slammed her finger down on the ‘end’ call button and groaned. She buried her head in her arms, phone dropping to the floor. If the Doc didn't think something was up before, he certainly did now. Fuck.

Her body trembled again before she took a deep breath. Whatever. Whatever! It would be fine! She would figure this out, and they’d go back to working towards their dreams.

Victoria would see Roman as a famous actor, she _would_.

She rolled off her bed, and reached for her nearest psychology textbook.

 _She would_ , if it was the last thing she did.

* * *

 The apartment became a grave. Roman called his supervisor, and was told to take some time off to collect himself. He paced in front of Victoria’s door, muttering to himself, racking his brain for any idea on how to fix this. He couldn’t work, he couldn’t act, and he was frazzled enough that driving would have been a horrible idea.

It had only been a couple of days, but after months of being attached at the hip with Victoria, her absence only added to his problems. All he wanted was for the people he cared about to be alright. He could be going insane, but as long as that was all it was, he’d be fine. It was the _not_ knowing that got to him, and he wondered if this was something Logan had normally dealt with.

He spun on his heels one more and froze as the door creaked open for the first time in days. Normally, Roman would have left boxes of take out and plates of food nearby for Vic to snag, but he hadn’t really been thinking of that this time. He had spent most of his time on the computer, trying to find Thomas, trying to deal with the aching need and pain in his chest.

Her hair stuck up in all directions, and Roman spared a brief moment to wonder if he looked any better. There were bags under her eyes, and he couldn’t help but drop his eyes to her covered wrists. She didn’t look at him, and strode carefully past him without a word. He trailed after her, fighting the urge to shout for her attention.

“Victoria?” he prompted as she selected one of her books from around the house. Her shoulders stiffened, and he tried again. “Vic? Jessie?”

Her shoulders climbed even closer to her ears and she tucked the book close to her chest before turning again, attempting to keep her back to him. It stung, but Roman was determined. This wasn’t helping either of them.

“Aurora? Double to my Trouble? My Lady? Annie? Fall Out Girl? In the Vic of Time? Vic and thin? Vics and Stones?”

Her shoulders shook, and Roman felt his lips tick upwards for the first time since he had poured his soul out to her. “Bon Jo-vic? Vic Possible? Lilo and Vic?”

“Stoooop,” she finally whined, her face turning red and trying to smother her chuckles. “I’m upset at you, let me stay upset and worried you dork.”

“Never,” Roman dove on the words with the desperation a dying man who just found water. “Vic, I am a man without sunlight when you lock yourself away. I am starving and you can’t see it; my very heart is dying without my best friend. The greatest dragon in all the land wouldn’t be able to stop me from trying to find you.” He swept his arms out and he took the fond look in her eyes as a good sign.

Except that it died almost as soon as he stopped talking, and he felt his shoulders slump.

“Please,” he said finally, eyes dropping to the floor. “I can’t—”

Silence fell, and Roman felt his heart sink.  He would just have to, get used to being alone once more. He had done it once, he could do it again. A hand touched his elbow lightly, and his head snapped up.

Victoria didn’t meet his eyes, but her voice was soft as she said.

“Just….give me a little bit more time, Roman.” Her voice wavered again, and she took a fortifying breath, “Tonight. We can talk...tonight. Why– why don’t you pick up a tub of Darcy’s ice cream? Say hi to Mr. Schneider, get out Ro’ burn off some of your energy.”

“But–!” He surged forward and caught her sleeve as she turned to retreat back to her room. “Vic, please, I’m losing my mind. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t keep seeing them out of the corner of my eye and knowing that you don't believe me and—” His voice cracked, “I can’t let anyone see me like this.”

Vic untangled his fingers from her sleeve and squeezed them lightly before letting go. “Tonight, Ro. We’ll get through this, I just– I need time.”

She slipped away from him, shutting her door once more and he collapsed in on himself, pressing a hand to his eyes in an effort to keep himself together. He took a shuddering breath, willing himself to remain calm and then took another. He could do this. He could do this, and he would.

He ran a hand through his hair, and turned to take a shower. He’d clean himself up, and then go see Darcy. He needed the ice cream, comfort food, to prepare for tonight. He’d– He’d talk to Mr. Schneider and see if there were any script changes in the last couple of days, maybe something he could do to ignore what was going on around him.

* * *

 Was she really right?

Victoria pressed her hands to her door, her newest books in a stack next to her, straining to listen to Roman shuffle around the apartment.

He had looked so devastated. Completely wrung out in a way that she had never seen before; not even during the worst of their high school years. Which they had promised–

 _Sh_ _e_ had promised that it would never get that bad again. They were going to look out for each other.

Victoria's eyes prickled and she pressed a hand to her face. What would be better? Roman had gone insane, had practically admitted it himself with that speech of his. And what sort of therapist would she be if she couldn't find the cause? Couldn't help him through it?

What sort of friend locked him out and didn't speak to him for days?

She ran her hands through her hair for the millionth time, feeling stray hairs come out with the action. She needed a shower. Some food. More than the power naps she had been getting, that were really more of her falling asleep on top of whatever text she was pouring over at the moment. Her collection was only so large, and she would run out eventually. Then what?

She'd have to talk to Roman at the very least. Her self imposed deadline loomed, a monolith that she wasn't sure she could scale. Not alone at least. But could Roman help?

Her breath hitched. There was just so much that she didn't know; couldn't understand.

And through all her question, as she tore through everything she had learned about the human brain and psyche and then beyond, a thought nagged at her. Chewed on her heels and chased her through the labyrinth of confusion.

What if Roman was right?

If all other options had been examined and all that.

Was it possible that he was once part of a whole, completely different human?

It just made no sense.

Victoria clenched her jaw. It couldn't be.

She shoved her doubts and fears aside. She would talk to Roman about it when he got back. Lay out the possibilities she had found, offer her help with coping. And if he wanted, _only_ if he wanted, set up an appointment with Doctor Picani.

She’d talk to him about–

Victoria swallowed, sinking down into her nest of blankets and books. She'd talk to him about hospitalization. Like he had, for her, all those years ago.

She owed him nothing less.

 _Nothing_.

As a friend. As a _best_ friend.

Victoria steeled herself and picked up the next text book in her pile. She shoved her exhaustion away, focusing on the swimming letters and words. No matter what she had promised herself. So she'd work herself to the bone to help him, regardless of the way her stomach rolled and something in her whispered that this wasn't right.

Of course it wasn't. The only right thing– something in her that had wound its way to her very core said; the only right thing in her life was Roman.

So she had to keep him there.

 _No matter what_.

* * *

 Darcy gave Roman a soft look as she handed him a tub of rainbow sherbet.

“I know you don’t believe me darlin’,” she said softly, catching his hand gently and squeezing it. “But it will get better. I promise. Sometimes the first step is the hardest.”

He blinked at her, and her smile grew.

“After all, heroes have to start somewhere right? Listen to their heart and start their quests; leave their home and comfort to chase after something better. You can do it. Just keep walking. As my nephew says: one step in front of the other.”

Roman took in a sharp breath at the familiar line; the same words Patton had told Thomas so long ago.

He nodded sharply, and whirled on his heels, stalking off towards the theater. He didn’t want to think about Patton quite yet. Didn’t want to think about how he was likely a figment of his imagination. Because it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair, and the thought haunted him as he hovered around the corner of the theater while the rest of the cast left. He refused to let them see him like this; refused to talk to them when he wasn’t sure what would come out of this mouth. He was supposed to be confident and regal and impressive; not on the verge of a breakdown.

His feet wavered in the lobby, and he wondered if he could simply put off talking to his director another day. He could take the ice cream back, listen to all of Vic’s theories on what was wrong with his head—because there was no way she wasn’t speeding through her books on it right now—and try to move on with his life.

Maybe that was what Darcy meant by taking the first step: recognizing that something was wrong and it would get better.

“Ah, I see that you’ve decided to show your face again Mr. Sanderson,” Mr Schneider said dryly from the doorway. “I hope that you haven’t forgotten your lines, seeing as having to find a new lead with your talent would be near impossible at this point.”

Roman forced a grin on his face and declared, “I would never betray my love of the stage that way sir! You can count on me! I shall dazzle all who come to see the show!”

Mr. Schneider chuckled and stepped closer to him, “I have no doubt that you will put on quite the show, Trouble. I certainly hope to see you on my stage once more soon.”

Something flashed through his eyes as he scanned Roman and the thespian did his best not to shift under the glance.

“I do have several things you could watch if you’re still struggling, kid. Though, I’m surprised that you haven’t seen them already.”

Roman blinked and furrowed his brow, “I...don’t know what your talking about sir. There are piles of videos that I could have watched. Ooooh, like the one from _Waitress_ , and how the actors managed to convey such emotion—”

“Not ones like that kid,” Mr. Schneider cut him off before he could stop rambling. “I meant the one with you and your brothers.”

Roman felt his entire body seize at the words and the world swayed under his feet.

His mouth felt dry and his tongue was too clunky as he managed to croak out, “You– you mean Thomas’s videos?”

“Yeah, those ones,” Mr. Schneider agreed. “You did good work with them kid; though I do wonder why I’ve never seen you with them. You seemed close.”

“We–” Roman struggled to form words, trying to figure out how to explain that he thought they didn’t exist, that everything was _insane_ right now. How could this have happened? How could– What–

“We were,” he finally managed, before desperately saying, “Do you still have the links? Links to them I mean, I couldn’t find them and I thought—”

That they didn’t exist; that he had imagined them; that he had taken the idea from someone else.

“—that Thomas had taken them down.”

“Sure thing, Trouble,” Mr. Schneider said easily. “I’ll shoot you an email when I get home. And send you the new script at the same time too.”

Roman nodded distractedly, throwing out a hurried, “Thank you sir!” before he was whirling on his heels and rushing home.

There was something growing in his chest, a tangle of hope and despair and a giddy sort of happiness. The videos at least, existed. They _existed_. There was proof.

He knew that he could quote them off the top of his head; could remember most of them in at last fuzzy detail. He could remember the look on the other sides faces when he had agreed with Patton’s suggestion.

(He could hear their voices again.)

He threw the door to their apartment open, and barely remembered to put the sherbert in his arms in the fridge before diving at the computer. His foot tapped rapidly as he refreshed his email over and over again until the notification appeared.

And it was only then that the pressure on his chest eased. It felt like he was breathing, truly breathing for the first time ever. He hadn’t even noticed that it had been there until was gone.

His cursor hovered over the link, suddenly irrationally terrified that it was all a hoax; that he would see something completely different, and that it wasn’t what he thought it was. This could be the proof he needed to convince Victoria, or it could be the last nail in his hopes (his dreams and the first nail in how he viewed his creativity).

Roman took a deep breath and finally clicked it, breath catching as familiar titles loaded before his eyes. He was shaking, ready to vibrate apart, but he still picked one, one of the better ones; where they were all there joking and caring about each other. Thomas’s voice floated from the speaker and Roman bent over the keyboard to stifle his sobbing with a hand.

It was real. They were _real._ He wasn’t going insane, he wasn’t alone, he- he could find them, could drive down to Florida, find out what had happened to land him alone on the east coast with an entirely new set of memories.

He could _see_ them all again: Logan and Virgil and Patton and Thomas and they could create more and dream more and his sobs turned into hysterical, yet _relieved_ laughter.

He could introduce them to Victoria, he could– he could– he could—

His brain felt like a flower blooming open under the sunlight, giddy with joy and hope and relief chasing out the shadows that had dogged him lately. He could say with certainty that everything was going to be alright. He was a balloon floating towards the sky with the way that his chest was swelling. The chair clattered behind him as he bound to his feet and rushed to Victoria’s room.

He practically collided with her on the way there and gripped her arm before he could register the look on her face. He spun her around with another giddy laugh and dipped her gracefully before straightening. His face ached with his grin and he ignored the way that she was staring at him in surprise, her jaw practically dropping to the floor.

“Come, my fellow Nobody!” he boomed, directing her towards the computer and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “A glorious new day has arose and we must plot the beginning of our Quest! Our Fairy Godmother has appeared for the ball, our carriage awaits; the Call has knocked on our door and we must answer!”

“What the hel–?” Victoria started but Roman was on a roll. The sky was the limit, the horizon his goal. Every wall in his way was defeatable, a witch waiting to be slain.

“We shall become heroes in our own rights! Or, well, I will; and _you_ shall be my trusty sidekick throughout it all! The Robin to my Batman! The Ferb to my Phineas, the Bert to my Ernie!”

He spun her again and laughed, wild and free. Victoria's stunned look slowly morphed into soft amusement, and she smiled back at him.

“What’s this, Empire Striking Back? Mr. Schneider let you return to acting?” she teased and Roman beamed even more at her.

“Even better!” He waved at the computer, “Proof! That my mind is simply as brilliant as it ever is, that the world has declared us fit for an Epic Adventure; the Quest of a Lifetime– a Curse to be lifted!”

Victoria’s eyebrows furrowed and she turned towards the monitor, Roman vibrated at her side, waiting for her reaction, knowing (hoping) that she would love them as much as he did; as much as their fans had.

He had been watching _Fitting In_ because really, it had all four of them, and he had wanted—

(to see them all, to watch the banter and teasing and happy moments. To watch a moment when they had all been together, after Virgil had been accepted and they had learned from their mistakes. To remind himself how much he loved them and cared about them.)

—proof that all of them existed.

Vic’s face went slack from the beginning, and slowly after a moment or two, a blink of confusion; she leaned forward to study the video closer. The light played off of her face, and quietly—slowly—she nodded.

“Ok,” she said, and let out a long breath. “Ok then.”

Roman grinned, finally giving into the urge to bounce up and down, hands pressed together in front of his face. “Ok?”

Victoria met his eyes and nodded, “Ok, let’s go find them.”

Roman squealed, and lunged forward to hug her. They were real.

They were _real_.


	4. Chapter 4

_Panic was his constant state; if it weren’t for the fact it was panic, he almost thought he’d get used to it. He pressed into the shadows even more and held his breath as footsteps passed him by. His arms were shaking, or it could have been the small warmth in them; either way. he frantically prayed that it wouldn't rattled the plastic around them and give them away._

_He was starving and exhausted, but he knew that he couldn’t stop moving._

_Nowhere was safe, no one could be trusted, and that was the way it always had been and always would be. No matter how much part of him insisted otherwise—said that there was at least one person out there—he shoved it down. He could not afford that weakness._

_The footsteps faded and he sucked in a sharp breath for dashing from his hiding spot and down the alley._

_Nowhere was safe, and never would be—_

* * *

 The sun warmed Roman’s back as he leaned back in his chair and watched as Victoria bent over the papers and maps she had scattered across one of Darcy’s tables. Really, the theater rehearsal would be done for the day soon, and Roman wasn’t sure if he wanted to be there when his fellow actors walked by. But Vic had insisted that they both needed sunlight so here they were.

The thing was that, as much as he wanted to, Victoria insisted they couldn’t just take off and chase the horizon in order to find the others. Roman felt like he was vibrating out of his skin, from excitement, from worry, he didn’t know anymore. But something was pushing him forward, insisting that they needed to get a move on, and needed to have done it yesterday.

“Alright,” Victoria muttered, most likely to herself, since whenever she started talking lately Roman would get frustrated and argue that they could take care of any problems on the road. “I think we’ve got enough funds to travel for about a month, but then we’d be stranded and—”

She ran a hand through her hair, air hissing from between her teeth.

“I just don't know if we can _afford_ this. Not if we want to find all three.” She bent over the papers in her hand and glared at them as if they offended her, and Roman had to agree with the sentiment. He reached out and yanked them from her hands.

“Oh come on, Vic-tange Cassette,” he insisted. “We can do this! We just have to get started!” He didn’t say that there was something about his dreams; about the shadows that chased him in the form of the other sides that worried him. There was something wrong with all of them, he was certain. And being the prince and hero that left it up to him to rescue them. “We have everything we need!”

Vic turned her glare to him, and scowled.

“No,” she disagreed, “we don't. We just don’t have the funds for a country wide search Roman, let alone the possibility of an international one. All we have is a vague direction for each of them, all in different locations may I add, and just–” She let out a frustrated screech and threw her hands in the air– “I’m a broke college student, and you're a broke actor. Face it; travel isn’t something that’s easy for us.”

“But we can’t just give up!” Roman exploded, rising from his chair in the same motion to pace the room. His hands waved through the air frantically, practically flailing. “I refuse– nay I _disavow_ the very idea! They need me, and I won't just– just leave them hanging because something as _STUPID_ as funds!”

His chest heaved and Victoria laid a hand on his elbow.

“I’m not saying that Ro’, sit down,” she said, but he shrugged her arm off and tried to ignore the pang of hurt that passed through her face. “I’m just thinking that we simply can’t do it now. We have to be careful with this if they’re in as much danger as you say. We could make things worse—”

“They can’t get worse!” Roman whirled on her, “We’re not _together_ , I have no idea where Thomas is and I _don’t know why I even exist_. I was– I _am_ Hopes and Dreams and Creativity, Victoria! If I’m dreaming about them then we’re still connected, and that means they’re _true_ and in danger. We’re not meant to function on our own! I’m not supposed to be alone!”

He gritted his teeth as the silence fell and very quietly, in a whisper that he almost missed Victoria responded, “But you’re not alone.”

His anger faltered because it wasn’t her fault. Whatever in godmother's name was going on; the one good thing that had come out of it was Victoria.

(He ignored the voice that whispered how he would choose the others over her any day.)

“I just—”

“You miss them,” she said softly. “I get it Ro’ I do, but we can’t just charge ahead on this.”

“Charge ahead on what?” Mr. Schneider asked from behind them, and they both jumped.

“Sir!”

“Professor!”

He raised an eyebrow at them and Roman flushed while Victoria busied herself with the papers in her hands. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at them and tapping his foot.

“Double. Trouble,” he said flatly. “Why is it I’m getting the feeling that you two are planning something that I’m not going to like?”

Roman tried his best not to flinch. He never really thought about it, but leaving meant leaving his position as lead, and that alone would upset Mr. Schneider, not to mention the part where he runs off alone with his best friend thing for unknown destinations.

“Because you don't like anything we plan,” Victoria snarked, nudging Roman with her elbow lightly. “I mean, the names say it all don't they?”

Mr. Schneider sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Roman chewed lightly on his bottom lip. This man had taken him under his wing, had helped him improve his acting—or at least he had memories of it happening—and it didn’t seem far to disappear on him in return. When the director turned a stern eye on them, he felt himself crack.

“We’re going looking for my brothers,” he blurted, and felt Victoria’s elbow dig into his side again, sharper this time.

“Ro,” she hissed, glancing at Mr. Schneider, and Roman glared back at her. He wasn’t an idiot; he wasn’t going to start talking about mis-matching memories or the fact that he thought he was only a facet of a full human’s personality. Not if it would keep him from tracking down the rest of them.

“You’re going to have a struggle finding a lead to replace me,” he continued, “seeing as I am fabulous. But there are citizens who need me more presently; specifically my family, and I can’t let them down.” His chin jutted up and he glared at the director. “And nothing you say can stop me.”

Victoria groaned quietly and buried her face in her hands, while Mr. Schneider’s eyebrow climbed his face again. But Roman wouldn’t take it back—he refused to—and he threw his shoulders back, squared to fight if he had to. He knew that he made bad decisions; that he got caught up in his fantasies and the way he thought life should be.

But this was bigger than that; it was his _family_.

Mr. Schneider sighed and reached over to dig through the bag over his shoulder. Roman blinked at him, and Victoria slowly raised her head to stare.

“Very well,” he said firmly, and held out a gold colored debit card. “If I cannot talk you out if it, then I may as well assist you in this...quest of yours.”

Roman felt his jaw drop as he reached out to take the card.

“Professor, we–” Victoria breathed, and shook her head– “we can’t take this! We have no idea how long with will take or how much it’ll cost or—”

Mr. Schneider held up a hand and Roman bit down on the urge to snap at Vic. As much as he hated it, she was right. Patton would hate it if he accepted it, and Virgil would worry about debts and ulterior motives.

Mr. Schneider, however, shook his head.

“That is from a special account of mine. I’ve been saving for years, and now I know why.” He laid a hand on Roman’s shoulder and curled the younger man’s fingers around the card pressing it to his chest.

“Family is important kid; much more than a retirement fund I don’t need,” the man said gently. “Don't you worry about cost, or me. You kids deserve this; it’s the least I could do for you talented young adults.”

Roman sucked in a sharp breath, and he heard Victoria wheeze from behind him.

“Thank you,” he breathed out. “I can’t– Sir, this is– _thank you_.”

Mr. Schneider squeezed his shoulder and said, “Find your brothers Roman, that would be repayment enough for me.”

Roman nodded, and couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat as Mr. Schneider nodded at both of them and turned to walk off, disappearing into the street and getting swallowed up by the pedestrians around him.

Roman whirled around and beamed at Victoria.

“Vic, _Vic_ , Vic!” He threw himself into her arms and laughed, picking her up and spinning her around. He danced past the metal tables and waved at Darcy though the window, who leaned on her counter and waved back, throwing him a thumbs up.

They could do this, they _would_ do this, and Roman felt like he could walk on air, like everything wanted would just drop out of the air for him.

Victoria laughed, hitting his arm lightly.

“Roman, Ro’ put me down!” She grinned down at him, and he hugged her tighter. “But yes Roman, we can do this, we really really can do this.” Her voice faded a bit at the end, but Roman had already moved on.

“But first,” she said, as he finally set her back down. “We need to wrap everything up here. Get Jasmine checked out to make sure she’s ready for the trip. Packing will be weird, seeing as we’re going to gone for who knows how long, but we have to fit everything in Jasmine. We could set a goal to leave...”

“A week!” Roman insisted, “at most!” The sooner they could get on the road, the better. A week would be long enough to give his notice to his supervisor and let the two of them pack everything they needed. They might need to rent out a storage space, but Mr. Schneider had said not to worry about cost.

Victoria hesitated and finally nodded.

“A week, and then we’ll be on the road.” She pressed a hand to her papers and looked down at the map on top. Her lips pressed into a thin line and her mouth opened, then closed. She hissed a breath through her teeth and finally asked, “Who are we going to look for first?”

Roman felt a jolt run through his body, every muscle locking in place as his hand rested on the keys to Jasmine. His face turned white, blood rushing out of it, and he felt his breath hitch.

“What– ?” he whispered, and a part of him knew that it was only logical, (Logan, it whispered) that they focus on one. They had no way of knowing if the other sides were in the same place but _still_ -

Vic’s lips turned white, and she looked on the verge ( _Virgil_ ) of chewing on her bottom lip in anxiety. Roman took a deep breath and closed his eyes, thinking back on everything he knew, both what he remembered of the others and what he suspected the trouble they were in was like.

“Virgil,” he finally settled on. “Virgil–– I think–– He needs our help most.”

He shoved down on the feelings of guilt churning in his gut at even having to choose, and tried to remind himself that they’d look for them all.

Victoria nodded, and laid a hand on his arm briefly before getting up.

And Roman understood, he did. They had to get things done and running and off the ground, and Victoria most likely thought that he would feel better once he had the others back. Roman certainly hoped that he would feel better once he had the others back.

* * *

 Roman was probably a little manic, he admitted to himself as he looked around his near empty room. Everything he didn’t need were packed away in boxes, lined up by his door and ready to be stored away. His posters had made him pause briefly, remembering _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ ones that Virgil had kept, which only spurred him to further pack for the trip already; and as a result, he found himself hovering in his own room, wondering what else he needed to do.

He tapped his foot several times before whirling on his heel and stalking out of his room. The moonlight shone through the open windows, but Roman didn’t pause to feel the night wind on his face like he normally would have. He wanted to be on the road right then, no matter how impossible it would have been.

A soft voice drifted from the main room, and Roman blinked. He thought that Victoria had already went to bed. She had been quiet after their talk, simply moving through the apartment and noting down what they needed and what they didn’t. She had offered to talk to the landlord about the lease tomorrow, but Roman had insisted to do it himself.

He didn’t have anything else to do after all.

The closer he got the easier it became to make out what Victoria was saying, most likely on her phone. He peered around the doorway, eyes locking on Victoria from the side as she sat down at the counter.

“—Yes, I’m certain that I need to talk to Dr. Picani,” she said, and Roman winced at the tone. It wasn’t sharp, but it was edged. An exhaustion that came from being too tired to truly fight back.

“Yes, it’s important, yes– it has to be now. Patricia, come on, you know me. Work or personal, when have I _ever_ called for a frivolous reason.”

Roman tilted his head and let out a slow quiet breath, pushing down the urge to reach through Vic’s phone and strangle the lady on the other end. It took a lot to push Victoria to the edge, and he couldn’t help but shuffle guiltily, wondering if he had something to do with it. Victoria had always tried to put him first even to the detriment of herself, and Roman knew that he was too ashamed to admit there were times he took advantage of that.

“Thank you,” she finally gritted out through her teeth, leaning forward in her chair and pressing her arms on the counter. Roman stepped forward quietly, unsure if he was welcome in this conversation.

“Yes Doc, it’s Victoria, I need to talk to you.” He saw her lips twitch upwards for a brief moment and her head shook, even though the therapist couldn’t see it. “No Doc, it’s– it’s not personal today.”

Roman watched her sigh.

“It’s about my internship.”

Roman felt his teeth clamp down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood in an effort to keep himself quiet. Frickity frack, hang his coat on a rack; he had _forgotten_. Vic had worked so hard to earn her spot in Dr. Picani’s office, and he had a picture of her beaming face packed away in his boxes even now. But if they were traveling—and if they were travelling for godmother knows how long—then she couldn’t keep it.

The right thing to do would be to tell Victoria to stay; that he’d be fine on his own. But Roman was selfish. He wanted his best friends to meet the others. He wanted her to love them the way that he did, he wanted everyone he cared about in one spot and getting along, and he wasn't Patton. He wasn’t Morality in the end. (Though he wondered how much of that still applied before shoving the thought away.)

“Something’s–” Victoria tripped over her words– “Something’s come up.” A pause. “No, no it’s not anything bad, I’m just going to be away, and I know that you– I don’t know, we’re not sure how long this is going to take. It’s– Yeah, me and Ro’, but I doubt that’s a surprise to you.”

Her shoulders were climbing towards her ears and Roman wanted to reach out to smooth down the tension, but he drew back. He clenched his fists and felt himself tremble as Victoria’s voice did.

“Yes, yes it’s so important Doc. He– He needs this– to...to get out of here. He was never one to stay still you know?” Her laugh was watery and he could hear her grip on the phone tighten.

“Me?” Her voice was small. “Yes, yes I do want to be a therapist, I– I don’t want to stop learning from you but Doc, if I can’t help my best friend how can I help anyone else? He– he went through so much for me; things I can never repay but I can try my best. Maybe– Maybe there’s something I can learn out there too.”

Roman gritted his teeth, watching her shoulders shake and listening to her voice crack as it rose then dropped again suddenly, as if she worried about if he could hear it; after all, she always cared about him more than herself.

Roman felt that thought cut deep and make him bleed.

“He’s worth more than me!” She was close to crying, Roman could _feel_ it. “He– he’s the one that’s going to dazzle the world Doc. Yes, I– no, no, I get it, I shouldn’t talk about myself like that.”

Her free hand came up, and Roman knew that she was pressing it to her face.

“No, no, I haven’t started up old habits. I just– Doc, please. _Please_. I need someone to tell me that I’m doing this for more than my own sense of guilt.” She was sobbing quietly now, shuddering with every breath and Roman couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He lunged forwards and wrapped his arms around her. Her sobbing grew worse, a tiny voice coming from the phone, but not clear enough that Roman could make out the exact words.

Roman waited a moment for the Doc to say his words before he tugged her away from the counter, and spun her chair. Letting her huddle into his chest, he pried the phone from her hand and brought it up to his ear.

“Doc?” he spoke into it and pressed a soft kiss to Vic’s head.

“Ah, Roman!” Dr. Picani greeted him cheerfully before his voice dropped into a more serious tone. “You remember how to calm her down?”

“Mmhm,” Roman agreed. “I’ll have her call you back in the morning.”

“You’re a regular Amethyst to her Pearl,” Picani teased and said his farewell.

Roman hung up the phone and pulled Vic even closer to himself. Her sobbing had quieted to silent tears and the occasional hiccups, so Roman swept her into his arms and carried her to the computer. He gathered the blanket he had never moved from the failed movie marathon, and nudged it off of his chair.

He set her down between his legs and reached around her to turn on the first movie that was on his queue. He leaned back and ran a hand through his friend's hair, talking softly throughout the entire opening of _Enchanted_ , resolving to talk about her breakdown in the morning after Dr. Picani had his chance.

Just like she would do for him.

* * *

  _Everything was—_

_Empty._

_Dark._

_Silent._

Lonely.

_And in the void, he waited._

* * *

Victoria slid the last of her books into the box and rocked back on her heels. It meant that everything around the apartment that was hers was put away. Which meant only her room was left. Something she had been trying to avoid.

An empty room meant they were really doing this. That _she_ was doing this. Leaving everything they had ever worked for—all the progress they had made—being thrown to the wind to go on what was probably going to end up as a wild goose chase.

She leaned forward and laid her head on the shelf in front of her.

Or maybe she just wanted it to turn out that way.

Victoria took a deep breath, shoving away from the wall. She flexed her fingers, the pain from her nails digging into her palm dragging her away from the darker thoughts. This whole trip was for Roman, not her. She didn’t matter in this equation. Not when there were people out there that could make Roman so much happier.

“Don’t be selfish,” she muttered under her breath and bit down on her thumb.

Roman had done so much for her; it was only fair that she do something in return. It was what friends did.

Her stomach rolled at the thought. She shook her head, trying to clear those thoughts. It was more than just that, she wanted Roman to succeed, she wanted Roman to find his brother, other sides, magical companions, whatever they were.

Vic straightened her back and marched towards her room. The sooner she got this done, the sooner that they could get going. Roman couldn’t do this alone, and Victoria wasn’t the sort to abandon him. Which meant that she was going to uproot everything for him again, and she clenched her jaw at the thought.

It wasn’t quite as warm as it had been when they had left their hometown.

Her door swung open, the posters along the wall mocking her. The scattered textbooks, papers, and clothes long since put away so that she could move through the room easier; it felt less lived in—less like _her_ room—already and more like a place she had once stayed.

Victoria chewed on the inside of her cheek, eyes scanning the room to decide what she needed to pack up first. Clothes would be the one of the things she took with her, as well as phone, charger, toiletries. The posters would be useless, but Victoria fingered her bedspread. Some comfort on the road may be nice, seeing as she had no idea how long this would take.

A creeping sort of fear suddenly took hold—that it would take longer than the amount Mr. Schneider had on his card would last—and for a moment she couldn't breath.

Maybe she should have tried to talk Roman out of this more. Maybe they'd be so far on the road for so long that they wouldn't be able to make money by the time it ran out. Or maybe it would be at the worst time and they'd be stuck. And it would be her fault, for not planning better, for not budgeting, for not keeping him safe.

Victoria tore her hand away from the blanket. It would be fine. She brought a hand up to her chest and felt it rise and fall with her breathing. In and out, over and over again. Always faithful, a human body; even when the mind betrayed it and wanted to stop working.

Victoria shook her head and started to tug at the blankets on her mattress. She'd take it with her. Picani did say that routine and a safe bubble would help her cope with her problems.

So Vic folded up the Disney pattern and set it neatly down next to her bags, before rolling up her sleeves and starting the process of boxing everything else up.

It was when she was staring at an empty room— shelves that had held her work empty; walls that held her passions bare; and the closet that, well it hadn't held her heart for real, but it held something that represented it was an empty void; it was only then did she lean back and close her eyes.

Victoria took a moment to mourn what was, and what could have been.

And then she took another deep breath, clenching her fists and tried to convince herself not to mourn the past as well.

Her heart was still with her, loud and proud and extra as always.

Roman hadn't left her.

Victoria slung her purse over her shoulder, shoved her stuff into the pile Roman had been taking out to the car, and headed out the door. She needed air. She needed to see her home one last time before it was replaced with endless road and the fear that they'd reach the end, only for Roman to tell her goodbye.

Or worse, that she'd make it halfway with him only to give up. To run out of energy and roll over onto her back and let the world do what it would with her.

Victoria gripped her purse tight, causing her knuckles to turn white as she walked a little faster. At least Roman wouldn't be as concerned if it happened. Not when he had others to think about, others to love. Something cracked in her bag and Victoria startled out of her thoughts.

It was fine, she was fine.

She was just jealous that was all. She brushed a stray hair out of her face, feeling the wind against her face as the familiar street that lead to Darcy's came into view. Just jealous because she was used to having Roman to herself. Anything other than that could be shoved down into a familiar dark box where everything she didn't want to think about ended up.

Her feet drifted towards the ice cream shop—yes, Roman, _shop;_ no one  has a shoppe these days—and Victoria pondered if Roman would like one last cone for the road.

Probably not. He had been vibrating with energy the last she had caught sight of him, hauling boxes and belting songs out at the top of his lungs. If they didn't leave soon, he'd start walking instead just to burn off the energy.

"Aha!" Vic startled at the voice. She whirled on her heel, meeting Darcy's near-black eyes. "If it ain't the girl that I was looking for today."

"Me?" Victoria shoved her thoughts away to grin at Darcy. "Why, I didn't know I was so special!"

" ‘Course you are," Darcy said with a thoughtful hum, and movement drew Vic's eyes to the packages in the woman's hands. Dark hands held the wrapped items out to her.

"These are for you and your platonic love birdie. Use them well."

Victoria took them, tilting her head as she tried to figure out what was in them.

Darcy laid a hand on her head.

"Stay strong Victoria. Shadows can provide a comfort of their own, when the light shines too bright to look at."

"Alright," Victoria said slowly, "If you say so Queen."

Darcy laughed, a soft sound for a kind woman. "You're going to be fine Vic."

The ice cream shop owner ruffled Victoria's hair, wavy curls tangling at the motion. Victoria squawked, tucking the packages under her arm to flatten out her hair. By the time she looked away, the other woman was gone.

* * *

 Roman shoved the last of the boxes into Jasmine’s trunk and leaned against the door, taking a deep breath. His head tilted back and his eyes found the window of the apartment that had been his home for the past two years. It had been his first true home, but not really; not when his head was insisting that home was farther down the coast: in _Florida_.

“Yo, The Prince is Right!” Victoria called, and he turned to beam at her, blinked as he caught the package that she threw at him. The plastic crinkled in his hands and he glanced down at it. It was emblazoned with a familiar logo, _Darcy’s,_  staring back up at him.

“Darcy does more than ice cream?” he asked incredulously.

“Apparently,” Victoria said with a shrug. “She tracked me down and said that we had to have these for some reason. The look on her face was really weird, so I didn’t exactly question it. You know how she is.”

Roman nodded slowly, thinking back to the black woman’s cryptic words about heroes and journeys, before tearing his package open. His jaw dropped, and he ran a hand over the white silk that greeted him.

It glittered in the sun and, as he unfurled it, the gold pattern on it was unfamiliar to him; but by _godmother_ was it gorgeous.

“She can make capes!?” he shrieked and twirled it around his shoulders, where it settled as if it had always been meant to be there. The weight of it made up for the fact that he wasn’t wearing the costume Thomas had put together for him so long ago, and something in him settled. He carefully clasped it together, and whirled on his heels to feel it spin.

“Not just that,” Victoria breathed, and held out a pair of golden gloves. The white embroidered around the edges matched his, but the closer he looked, the more differences he could find.

“They have nails built into them too, see?” She slid them into her hands and he watched as the lumps in the front of them extended into long, stiletto fingernails.

The designs on them almost seemed to swirl in the light and Roman squealed at the sight of them. He grasped her hands, and pulled them closer to himself.

“Darcy does nails?” He tapped them lightly and grinned. “Armed and dangerous now?”

Victoria snickered and took her hands back, gesturing at Jasmine. “You ready?” she asked quietly.

Roman took a deep breath, and nodded.


	5. Chapter 5

Roman tried not to scream from his position leaned against the steering wheel. Exhaustion seemed to pull down on his bones and it had only been about a week. A week of driving from city to city, following the pull in his chest. A week of mindless boredom, switching off who drove Jasmine, and wondering if the dreams he kept having actually meant anything.  
  
“So we can cross Taylorville off of our map,” Victoria said, and Roman groaned in response. Her feet were propped up on Jasmine’s dash, and a map was spread out over her lap as she took a pen to the name of the town they were in. “But hey, only two-thirds of Illinois to go through before we can agree that your feelings are wrong.”

“He’s here, I _know_ it,” Roman insisted, albeit weaker than he would have a week ago. His knuckles tightened on the wheel and he gritted his teeth. “We’re close, we’re so damn close.”

Victoria reached down and grabbed a handful of the popcorn at her feet, flicking it at his face.

“We agreed that this would take awhile Ro-Co.” She traced a finger along the highway line. “Maybe Springfield will have a lead. Even if he’s not there, then it’ll have resources we could use to look for him, being the capital and all.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Roman muttered doubtfully, lips sticking out in a pout.

Victoria rolled her eyes and flapped the map at his face. “You want to navigate then? I’m just trying to play hot and cold with you.”

He groaned and planted his face back against the wheel, trying not to analyse her tone of voice too much. She was fine. He was fine. They were fine. Aside from the whole, no progress thing.

“And,” he added loudly, “we never agreed that it would take a long, boring, uneventful amount of time. You muttered it to yourself as we left and I thought we’d have an adventure! At least a flat tire! Meet cutes! Saving someone in trouble and showing up exactly when we need to!”

Victoria reached out and pat his shoulder in mock sympathy. “Poor, poor Ro-punzel, wondering when his life will begin.”

Roman giggled and pulled up short.

“Don’t use my love of Disney to distract me from my brooding,” he whined, “I am sulking Vic. SULKING. Leave me to my dark ambiance in peace.”

“Or–” Vic dragged out the word– “we could get something to eat, you could wear your new cape, and then we could get back on the road so you can reach the adventure you want to have.” She studied her nails for a long moment and smirked. “Everyone admiring your outfit, staring in awe of you, being jealous of your style.”

“ _How dare–_ ” Roman started before pausing and glaring out the window. “You know me too well.”

Victoria snickered and dragged her feet off of the dash, “I know you the perfect amount. Now come on, you drove all night and I’m craving pancakes.”

“Ooooh, with fruit and syrup–” Roman started, hearing his door click as it opened.

“–and drowned in whipped cream and powdered sugar,” Victoria finished for him, and he squealed, twisting around his chair to grab his new cape. He refused to go without the gift, not when it was so fabulously constructed. It was a struggle to match with his normal outfits, he wasn’t really willing to admit, but it reminded him of his costume from the videos. It was almost like a piece of home on the road.

Plus, a prince had to slay.

Vic cackled, tucking her own gift from Darcy in her pockets, the gloves carefully stored. She stretched her arms into the air, shutting her door with the heel of her foot and pointing towards the nearest building.

“Shall we venture into their dangerous lair to gather information for our quest?” Roman grinned and held his arm out as Victoria said that.

“Come, Player Two; we shall slay the beast inside and earn the greatest reward of breakfast.”

Victoria hooked her hand around his elbow and bumped his hip with hers. Or at least, she tried to, being a whole head shorter than him.

“Pffft,” she disagreed, “I am clearly Player One, Ro; don’t lie to yourself.”

She grinned at him, and Roman tugged her a little closer to himself in response.

They slipped past a well dressed couple and Roman preened at the way the woman stared at him for a long moment before looking away. Of course they admired they way he looked; the cape had been a struggle to coordinate, but when he pulled it off, he _pulled it off_. After they found the others and he could focus on his career again, it was going to be a part of his trademark look. Yes, that’s how awesome it was.

He held the door open for Vic and she smirked at him, wiggling her fingers at him as she turned to trade a few words with the cashier on duty. It was late enough in the day that not many others were in the restaurant, though he did note distantly that the couple they had passed took a seat in the back corner.

“Come on, Disney Prince,” Victoria said, sauntering back over to his side. “It’s a seat-yourself sort of place. We gonna sit where they all can admire your beauty today?” She snickered at him and Roman scowled back at him

“It’s not a crime to share _this_ –” He waved a hand up and down his body in emphasis– “with the rest of the world. Beauty is meant to be shared Vic, and it would be a shame not to let them see just what they could do if they put effort in like I do.”

“Effort,” Victoria teased as they drifted towards one of the booth tables, “You barely work out if you have to. You get by on fashion and glamour.”

He let out an affronted noise and flailed his hands in the air.

“I do _not_ . Just because _you_ do not care about how you look—”

“Yet somehow—or more accurately, some _one_ —makes sure I still look fabulous,” she cut in.

“You’re welcome,” he huffed. “But just because I style you does not mean that I don’t put any effort into my own look. A prince is the one everyone looks up too, and by godmother I’m going to make sure they want to.”

Victoria propped her chin up with her hand and grinned at him, hopelessly fond in a way that made his chest warm. But the normal look was undercut by something darker and he paused, hands freezing in the air.

“What’s your latest scheme, Vic-holas Wilde?” he prodded, bringing his hands down to do so literally.

She swapped at the finger lightly, scowling back at him. “I'm not scheming. I just–” She hesitated, and glanced out the window.

“Just what?” he asked.

She waved her free hand vaguely. “I just wonder. About the others, if they're anything like you. How exaggerated they were in those videos, what they’re like. Are they as obsessed with fashion as you are? Do they care at all? Do they like theater? What comes from Thomas and what comes from you?”

Roman felt his muscles lock up under the contradictions that his heart screamed at him. His eyes drifted towards the window as well and his voice was soft as he spoke. Hopelessly fond, and hopelessly lonely.

“There isn’t a time that I don’t remember having them with me.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, swaying forward as if sheer force of will could return him to those times. “To say we were separate would be a lie. But so would be saying we were the same. We were Thomas, but Thomas was us. Like the way hills fed into valleys, there was no real point you could say one of us started and the other one ended, just the feeling that you had gone from one to the other at some point.”

He took another deep breath, relishing the feel of air pulling in his lungs, the beat of his heart. All of it distinctly his. He opened his eyes to meet Victoria’s, the girl’s own eyes wide with wonder and bright with curiosity.

He grinned back at her. “Patton is the kindest person you’ll ever meet, sunshine incarnate both on and off camera. If I weren’t so amazing, I’d almost say that he was the best of us. Empathy and emotions and morality. He wasn’t perfect—that was, once again, me— but...”

He wondered what his face looked like at that moment; what it did to give her that look of heartbroken wonder.

“Patton was a puffball, but he had teeth. Anger, frustration, grief; they’re all still emotions. Thomas wasn’t one to dwell on them much, and neither was Patton, but they were still there.” Roman hooked his ankle around Vic’s and murmured, “He was the world’s worst little brother and the world’s best father rolled into one.”

He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Which was probably why he and Logan got along like a house on fire.”

Victoria made a noise – something that Roman swore he had heard before but couldn’t place. He snapped out of his half-daydream and met her eyes long enough to see her slam something close in an indescribable anger—almost bitterly; something bitter she usually reserved for his parents—down and away.

“Vic?” he asked softly, and she nudged the ankle he had around her calf.

“Tell me about Virgil,” she asked instead, back to wonder and curiosity. Her voice held what seemed to be a mix of fondness and amusement. He hesitated for a long moment before deciding to brush it off and launching into a story of the time that he and Virgil had started a prank war that encompassed the entire mindscape, and then bled into Thomas’s actual life.

* * *

Victoria bobbed her head in time with the music that drifted from the radio. The sun rose over head, scattering sunbeams through the clouds. She glanced at Roman and bit down on her lip as his head dipped down towards the window. Her fingers tapped the steering wheel.

He hadn’t been sleeping well the last few nights.

Victoria had thought that it was because of his brain trying to wrap around the new/old memories, but it wasn’t tapering off. If anything, it was getting worse; to the point that Roman was starting to to notice how little she was sleeping herself. It wasn’t anything new, but Victoria found it easier to hide when she could shut a door between them and turn off the light.

Sitting in the dark, letting her thoughts weigh her down and her phone light stab at her eyes had been something she didn’t want Roman to know she still did.

Not when she was supposed to be better.

Jasmine rattled as she hit a pothole. Whatever; Vic would cope as she always had.

Cope like it sounded Virgil did as well. Victoria breathed steadily, though her fingers tapped the steering wheel faster at the thought. Virgil— or at least, the Virgil from Roman’s ramblings and the playlist of videos she had seen—was someone she could deal with. Someone who wore a mask rather than deal with his mental issues.

Big mood, could relate. Vic couldn’t wait to meet him.

Patton, Victoria would admit, didn’t sound all that up her alley. Bright and kind, but not as interesting as Roman. She preferred a few more shadows in her lights. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way, telling her to give him space.

Her eyes darted over to check on Roman. He breathed steady and slow, already asleep. Good. It wasn’t a long drive to Springfield, but even a power nap would help at this point. If it weren’t for the traffic she was trying to navigate, Vic would have pulled a blanket up over him so he could sleep easier.

It would be like old times.

The thought made her hands tighten around the wheel, and her teeth ground together. Just like old times; the good at least. Not the bad, which still left her shaking and wanting to hurl herself down a bottomless pit. Or maybe a pit with a long fall and a sudden stop. Whichever one meant that she didn’t have to deal with anything anymore.

The bad that Logan brought up was like a bully digging his nails into old wounds. Critical, sharp, focused on logic; someone who wanted to stifle the bright imagination that she admired so much in Roman. It was stupid, she _knew_ it was stupid. But for some reason Victoria still couldn’t help the way that distrust and dislike wound together in her chest.

It squeezed at her. Tight and uncomfortable. Counterpoint to the warmth that thinking of Roman brought.

Roman shifted in his sleep, snapping Victoria out of her thoughts. She glanced at him again. His arm curled up to cushion his head, but even then his cheek smashed against the window in what had to be an uncomfortable position. His lips parted slightly as he breathed and his eyelids tracing something only he could see.

He was all she had.

Her foot eased on the gas. The longer it took to get there, the more time she had with him. If it weren’t such a hazard, Vic would have squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't think like that. She shouldn’t.

Roman would be happier with his brothers. Other sides. Whatever.

Which meant, as a good friend, she’d support him in finding them. Regardless of what would happen to her. Her shoulders relaxed and she pressed down on the gas again, Jasmine leaping forward at the action.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d give Logan a piece of her mind when she meet him.

For Roman.

* * *

 Virgil pressed his body closer to the shadows of the wall, trying to breath as steadily and quietly as he could. Footsteps wandered past his corner, sending chills down his spine that contrasted the warmth tucked against his side. He chewed on his cheek, eyes narrowing in concentration.

He glanced down at the boy who stared back up at him solemnly, hands tangled in Virgil’s threadbare hoodie. Virgil placed a hand on his head and pushed lightly to urge them deeper into the alley way. The kid nodded, his feet shuffling across the cement. If he walked that way, there was less chance of stepping on something they didn’t know was there.

Virgil laid a hand on the kid’s shoulder. He flicked a glance over his shoulder.

“Come on, come on, come on,” he murmured. “Just a little bit farther, you can do this Richard.”

Richard squeezed the fabric of his hoodie.

“We,” the kid insisted, short and simple as he always did.

Virgil’s stomach rolled as familiar fears assaulted him. What if it was his fault Richard didn’t talk more? Maybe he had pressed the need for silence and stealth too much, and now he was going to be quiet forever. Maybe Richard was just scared to talk around him, maybe Virgil had failed at protecting him and Richard was traumatized for life and he would never talk forever, setting him behind others, which would lead to struggles in school, which would lead to a lower income, which would lead to—

He twitched, a voice echoing behind them, the words too faint to make out. Virgil tried to take a full breath, but it caught in his throat. Fuck, no, he couldn’t have an attack here.

His nausea worsened, and from the way Richard let go of his hoodie to grip his hand, Virgil figured he had turned pale as well.

_Fuck._

He trembled, gritting his teeth and taking another couple of wobbly steps in the direction they needed to go. They were so close. If he could make it to an actual street, they could lose their followers in the crowd. Sure, all of their supplies in that stash would have to be abandoned, but Virgil had worse things to worry about.

Well, he’d still worry about it. About whether they’d make it through the season this way, about if Richard would be warm and comfortable. If anyone would notice—god, they couldn’t be noticed—it would only end in disaster.

He tried to take another breath as Richard’s hand tightened in his own. The kid practically dragged him towards the street. Virgil stumbled along behind him, focusing on trying to breath and not falling flat on his face from his shaking legs. Because wouldn’t that be the best way for the day to go? To fall flat on his face when they’re trying to escape.

Virgil flinched as Richard shouldered his way into the busy street, but he didn’t slow down, no matter how much he wanted to. The people jostling him around only made the tingling along his fingers worse, and Virgil bit down on his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

Richard lead the way with a swift step; every turn confident and rushed, weaving through the people around them. Virgil sucked in another shallow breath as they turned into an empty alleyway, but as much as he would have liked to simply collapse there to ride out his attack, the very damned thing wouldn't let him. Fear scratched it's claws down his back and he shoved Richard forward again.

They ducked into an alcove, and Virgil pressed a hand to his mouth in an attempt to remain quiet. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. Richard's hand trembled in his.

They stood there, waiting, until Virgil's legs finally buckled. He slid down the wall, Richard's concerned eyes blurring as he hyperventilated. Nausea threatened to drown him, and Virgil swallowed back bile. Stupid, stupid, _fuck_ , he couldn't stop here. They weren't safe yet. And what sort of shitstained moron almost got them caught?

Him, that's who. Fuck.

They could have gotten caught. They could have gotten experimented on; or maybe they were Child Services instead and they would have only taken Richard. Taken him back and left Virgil alone. Maybe it would be better that way; who was he to play protector? A worthless nobody that's who. He was going to get them stabbed in a back alley.

Or starving on the streets. Or frozen to death during the winter. Or taken by whoever the hell was still following them. No matter which direction Virgil turned, it was simply death, death, pain, he couldn't keep them safe, he _couldn't_ —

Virgil jumped as Richard pressed a hand to his chest.

"Breath," Richard commanded, and Virgil sucked in a huge breath.

"Four." Virgil breathed in as much as he could.

"Seven." His thoughts raced as he held on to it and the oxygen stuttered free.

"Close. Four." Virgil tried again, Richard coaching him through the exercise until Virgil's fingers prickled with the return of feeling.

"One day, kid," Virgil said, voice hoarse, "you're going to have to stop talking like a cutesy child and actually use those words I know you have."

Richard grinned cheekily at him, "No."

Virgil pulled him close, dragging him into a headlock. "No? No?! What sort of half-assed rebellion is this? You little shit, I'm going to show you what happens to people who go against me."

Richard shrieked with giggles as Virgil dug his knuckles into the kids head, gently, and wrestled with him until they were both breathless with amusement. Richard leaned into his side and tucked his feet under Virgil's legs. Virgil scoffed and shoved at him with his shoulders. The battered shoes did nothing to hide how cold Richard's feet were.

Brat.

"Home?" Richard asked softly, and Virgil winced.

"No," Virgil snapped before dragging his hand over his face at the way Richard's face dropped. "Oh, don't look at me like that, come on. You know I'm right. They got close to us this time. If we head back know when they're on the look out, they'll find the place and then—"

"Then bad," Richard finished in a whisper.

"Worse than bad," Virgil agreed. "So we stay away alright? Fuck, are you _sure_ we shouldn't leave town? No, no, no, you're right, we've got an advantage here. We know the streets better than they do, already have places setup. It's safe. We can hold them off at least a little bit longer, right?"

Richard gave his leg a pat.

"Right," the kid said firmly.

Virgil scrubbed at his face again. "God, okay; let's see if we can find some place a little bit warmer to sleep for the night alright? Two hours, _at most_ , and we meet up back here. I go right, you go left."

"Right," Richard agreed with a small smirk.

"Brat," Virgil grumbled, more fondly than he would ever admit. Richard's smirk grew into a grin before the kid scampered off.

His head tilted back, and his eyes slid shut. Fuck, everything ached and Virgil took a shuddering breath. He lucked out in that Richard hadn't asked just _what_ had caused Virgil to slip up and almost get them caught.

Seeing someone almost identical in a passing window wasn't normal. Especially since he would have written it off as a simple reflection, had the image not worn the most ridiculous get up. Really? Who wore a bright red sash and a gold tassels with a white suit? It was completely ridiculous and stood out way too much.

But the sight had sent such a rush of fondness and frustration and fear and amusement through him, he had tripped up.

A sharp exhale echoed through the alley. Virgil groaned as he hauled himself back up to his feet, using the wall behind him as leverage. He closed his eyes again as the world titled dangerous, though if the vertigo was leftover from the attack or from the lack of food he had been getting Virgil didn’t know.

He stumbled his first couple of steps before forcing himself into a steady gait. He grit his teeth and dug his nails into his palms.

He refused to fall prey to insanity, at least not more than he already had. What else would explain him except crazy? Taking in a kid when he could barley fend for himself, trying to outrun an organization with no information, no supplies, and no allies. He was going to die one day, sooner rather than later.

There wasn’t backup on the way. No matter how much his heart insisted there was.

It was just him and Richard. That was all he could really rely on. No—

No Prince was coming for him, and the reflection had been _himself_ and his mind was playing a cruel trick on him as it always did. Virgil would get by alone.

As he always had.


	6. Chapter 6

_The darkness pressed down on him from every angle, leaving no escape from its grasp. There was no end to it, no place to rest, and even behind him there was a tangle of thorns that kept him from returning. His feet pounded over sidewalks and through dirt paths but no matter how far or fast he ran, his heart wouldn’t calm._

_The thorns never abated and the footsteps following him never left._

_And Virgil—_

_Virgil was exhausted. There was something missing– there were several something’s missing. But if he paused to look for them, then he’d be caught. He couldn’t remember what or who was after him, only that he couldn’t let them catch him._

_He couldn’t let them take him. Not again. Not ever._

_No matter how worn down he became, his feet wearing away and the clothes on his back growing worn. As the bones of his legs ground down and he was left slogging through a swamp on peg legs, tripping on something he couldn’t see and pitching forward to drown in the murk._

_He struggled to take a breath and—_

* * *

 Victoria’s arm on his startled Roman out of his nap and he jerked forward, almost slamming his head on Jasmine’s dashboard. He blinked slowly at her, trying to drag his mind out of the water that seemed to fill it. Her eyes were concerned, and he wondered if he was starting to show bags like Virgil’s, which would be a catastrophe, if only for how the darker side would react when they finally met.

“Hey,” she said softly, “I got us a place to stay for a couple of days while we look around. You get any new feelings?”

Roman blinked again and rubbed at his chest. He almost thought that Victoria had kicked it on accident, or someone had wrapped a rope around it from the way that it tugged at him.

“Yeah,” he croaked, almost as if he had been screaming, and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I do. I think we’re close.”

Victoria sighed, and Roman gritted his teeth. It wasn’t her fault. He had been saying that for the last couple of towns, insisting each time that they go over the area with a fine tooth comb, or at least as much as they were able to. Springfield was huge though, and Roman shoved the thought that even if Virgil was there, he’d be impossible to find in the mess of it to focus on what they should do next.

“Alright,” she agreed and waved the card that Mr. Schneider had given them. “We’re clear for the next two days at this motel before we have to reconsider. I can check out the library and records for any Virgil’s with a last name based off of Sanders, and you check out the local haunts he’d visit?”

“And the quest begins anew!” Roman cheered and threw himself out of Jasmine to escape the suddenly confining space of her.

His brain was racing with possibilities: Virgil wouldn’t have any local haunts, would he? Not if he didn’t have friends and support. Which was the biggest question: had whatever happened given Virgil someone like Victoria? Or was he holed up somewhere hiding from his fear of the world?

He rubbed his chest again, and as much as he hoped—and by _godmother_ did he hope—something screamed that wasn’t the case.  The same something insisted that he needed to find Virgil, and he needed to find him yesterday.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself once more. It would be a futile effort as it always was lately, but he could at least try. Victoria was already heading into their motel room, a bag over her shoulder and gloves on her hands catching the light of the sun. Roman wondered if he could wander off then and there without her noticing, but he really doubted it.

He pulled his own bag out of the back seat and blinked, swearing that he saw someone out of the corner of his eye. His head snapped up and scanned the area before he shrugged and followed Victoria into the room to set up their newest base.

She took one look at him as he entered and held her hands out.

“Gimme that,” she sighed, “and get out of here. You’re going to explode if you don’t go looking for him already, and I’m going to murder you if I have to put up with your pacing while I unpack.”

Roman didn’t waste a moment, tossing his pack at her and whirling on his heel to dash out the door. He barely heard Victoria's grunt as she caught it before the door was swinging closed behind him, barely missing the edge of his cape.

There was something more this time; something more to this city and Roman was certain that they were right this time. That this one was it. Virgil was _here_. It was just a matter of finding him.

He strode quickly down the street, shouldering past a well dressed couple and almost closed his eyes to follow the connection in his chest. Only then he’d run into walls—something he hadn’t tried, honestly, and it hadn’t made Victoria double over laughing instead of helping him stop the bloody nose he got from running into a wall—and Roman was smart enough not to do that. It slowed him down, and slowing down frustrated him, and frustration clouded the feeling, making it hard to tell if it was his emotions or the tug.

The romantic side slipped out of the crowded street into one of the closer alleys and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. He breathed slow and deep, trying to ignore his growing frustration and despair. In for four, hold for seven and out for eight. It wasn’t quite meant for this, but it cleared his mind easily enough.

His eyes snapped open as his breath caught out of nowhere, and he pushed off of the wall he was on.

“Virgil?” he whispered to himself, and stalked down the alleyway, leaving the rucus of the city behind him as he dove into the darker part of town. His pace increased the farther he got, and he swore that he could hear footsteps ahead of him.

“Virgil!” He yelled, and felt his feet skid around another corner as something crashed in the next alley. He blinked and fought down a scowl as he met large eyes that were so amber they were almost gold. The young boy huddled closer to the trash can he had tripped over, a torn bag clutched to his chest tightly, his fingers turning white. Roman felt his stomach churn, both from horror and from disappointment.

It wasn't Virgil, but the child looked no older than twelve, too small and scrawny for Roman to put an exact age on him. He ducked his head, and his amber eyes disappeared behind a mess of brown bangs.

“Hey, hey,” Roman tried to soothe, hands held out with palms up to show that he wasn’t holding anything or meant any harm. “It’s okay, I just thought– I thought you were a friend I’m looking for; I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The kid didn’t look up, simply shaking from where he curl into a tighter ball, and Roman bit down on his bottom lip, just shy of drawing blood. The resemblance to some of Virgil’s panic attacks was uncanny and he ached for the anxious side who could calm anyone down with his intimate knowledge of panic.

“I’m just going to take a step back,” he continued softly, shuffling one foot back and then the other. “It’s going to be alright, I’m going to give you some space and then you can leave when you’re ready. I won't stop you, or follow you, I’m just going to make sure that you get up, okay?”

Roman didn’t know how long he stood there, arms aching from holding them out and legs cramping from the lack of movement, but as the shadows slowly lengthened around them the kid staggered to his feet and with one last suspicious look over his shoulder, scampered away. Roman let out a breath he didn’t know he had been hiding and sunk to the filthy ground, pressing his palms to his eyelids.

The image of Virgil, alone and pressed into a brick wall trying to calm himself down burned itself into his retinas. It wasn’t until his phone rang in his pocket that he heaved himself up. He knew that Victoria was the one that was calling, and he ignore the thought that right now she was the only one who would.

He didn’t answer, not at first and staggered back to one of the main streets, squinting at the nearest sign to figure out where he was. When he pulled out his phone for the GPS it buzzed in his hands and he took a shuddering breath before answering the call.

“Hey Ro,” Victoria greeted. “You want sushi for dinner, or that one chef salad you insist helps your figure?”

Roman struggled to find the words he needed to reply to her, mind stuck on the boy he had run into, and on the crippling disappointment that he hadn’t found Virgil. He swallowed thickly and finally managed to grind out, “I don't care.”

Silence fell, and Roman felt his hand turn white around his phone.

“Sushi and a milkshake it is,” Victoria said quietly. “And maybe a Disney movie as well. I’ll see you back at the motel Ro.” He almost thought she was going to hang up then, was in the middle of pulling the phone away from his face when he heard an even softer, “We’ll find him.”

The dial tone rang in his ear before he finally replied with a dull, “I hope so.”

* * *

 He was _late_.

Virgil bit down on his thumb hard enough to draw blood. Richard was supposed to be back _hours_ ago.  He wanted to go look for Richard. Everything in him _screamed_ to go tearing through the streets until he found the kid. But what if Richard turned up after he had left? What if they missed each other, Virgil looking for Richard and Richard looking for him, and they never saw each other again?

What if Richard had been taken though?

They already had on close call today, it was too close to an actual encounter.

He took a shuddering breath. He couldn’t have another attack now, couldn’t make himself useless in case Richard came tearing around the corner. If they needed to leave again, Virgil had to be ready; even if it meant hauling the kid up in his arms and sprinting until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore.

But—

If Richard had gotten caught, every moment he spent hesitating was another mile put between the two of them. _Unacceptable_.

Virgil needed to protect him.

He dug his free hand into his arm, feeling his nails catch on the worn hoodie. His teeth caught on the torn skin of his thumb and Virgil winced at the salty taste of his own blood.

Fuck, why couldn’t he do anything right?

His foot twitched forward as Virgil steeled his heart. He had to look. Maybe, maybe Richard would wait here if he did make it back. They had plans in place. Not good ones, not as good as—

Virgil swallowed hard, shoving back the thought. He couldn’t think about that now. Couldn’t let the stray thoughts that had started to wander into his head distract him. He didn’t know anyone who came up with good plans. He didn’t know _anyone_ he could trust other than Richard and an old couple not far from them.

He was on his own with this.

He always had been.

So why did that insistence ache like he had torn open an old wound?

Virgil shook his head, stumbling as it made everything tilt dangerously. He slumped against the wall and gritted his teeth. He couldn’t stop here. He _refused._ Not when Richard needed his protection. He could sleep when he was dead; he could eat when Richard was full.

His hand scraped along the wall, leaving behind a trail of blood almost unnoticeable as he dragged himself towards the entrance of the alleyway. His chest heaved, and Virgil hated himself with a fiery passion; simply walking shouldn’t take him this much energy.

He managed a few more steps—almost reaching the entrance—when a small form barreled around the corner.

Richard slammed into him, knocking the two of them over and Virgil gasped at the jostling of old bruises.

Even so, he curled his arms around Richard’s shaking form and buried his nose in Richard’s oily hair.

“Oh thank god,” he rasped. His own arms trembled and he pulled Richard as close as he could. “ _Thank god_.” He reached down to run a hand across Richard’s face and arms. “Are you hurt? Are you alright? What happened? Are you bleeding? Is someone after you? Richard, _are you alright_?”

Richard’s head dragged against Virgil’s chest as he nodded. He didn’t buy it, not when Richard dug his fingers into the back of his hoodie even more. Virgil would have been alright with staying there if it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t know if Richard was being followed.

Logic said that the kid would have let him know if that were the case, but the bag that dug into his hips that Virgil _knew_ Richard wouldn’t have been dumb enough to go back for said otherwise. They left supplies behind for a reason when they had close calls. It could be bugged. It could be traceable. It was recognizable now.

Virgil dragged the two of them into a sitting position, leaning back against the wall and strained his ears for footsteps. Richard tugged on his sleeve. Virgil shushed him, pressing a hand to the wall and gritting his teeth. If it came down to it he could run, he just wasn’t sure for how long—

“Virgil,” Richard said loudly, and Virgil flinched.

He hissed as his head collided with the wall they were leaning against. Richard winced in sympathy, reaching up to run gentle fingers against Virgil's head. His nose wrinkled in thought and Virgil sighed, grasping at the kid's wrist.

"'m fine," Virgil said. He tugged Richard's hands away from himself, scowling as Richard frowned at him. "Don't give me that. _I'm_ not the one who took a stupid risk today. What the _hell_ were you thinking Richard?"

Richard shrugged, twisting away from Virgil and grasping the bag closer to his chest.

"Alone," he muttered, picking at a loose thread on the bag.

"Yeah," Virgil snapped, "we're alone. That's a _good_ thing—"

"No," Richard interrupted sharply. "Not followed. Alone."

"You can't know that for sure," Virgil's voice climbed in tone and volume, and he reached up to tug at his hair in panic. Richard frowned heavily at the action, but Virgil ignored him. Kid didn't get to worry about things now after pulled such a fucking harebrained stunt just like—

Just like—

Just like who?

Virgil sucked in a sharp breath and shook his head. It didn't matter. It _didn't matter._

"Virgil," Richard repeated again. The kid brushed the bangs from his eyes and leaned closer to Virgil. He bit down on his lip and sighed. "Virgil, you take on too much."

Virgil laughed, the bitter sound tearing at his throat. "Tell me what else is fucking new."

"I just want to help," Richard whispered, and god, Virgil was such a fuck up that the kid only really talked when it got this bad. "You haven't eaten and you haven't slept and—"

"And what?" Virgil bit out, digging his hands into his hoodie. "I'm going to die. Newsflash, kid; we're all going to die one day. It's just a matter of when. Should I be an asshole and let you go first?"

Richard flushed, in anger or shame; Virgil didn't know.

"No," the kid snapped out and a dark smirk crawled up Virgil's face as he fell silent. Shit, he was the worst, but if being the worst was what kept Thomas alive then so be it. He'd walk backwards into hell with a two fingered salute waving at the world if that was what it took.

"Then we're agree that going back for the bag was a stupid idea."

"No," Richard snapped again, frustration growing in his voice. "Help." He tilted his head up and Virgil bit back a groan. Stupid, stubborn kid.

"'sides, saw you, but not you."

Ice ran down Virgil's spine.

"No," he said. Richard flinched back at his voice. He tried to pull back how dark and angry it was, but it was a fruitless battle. Just another thing to hate himself about. "No, you didn't."

"But—"

"I said _no_ Richard; drop the fucking idea and I'll let go of the bag," Virgil snarled.

He shrugged his hood up over his head, taking comfort in how it shadowed his eyes and face. It meant that Richard wouldn't see how he chewed at the inside of his cheek or the panic in his eyes.

Seeing someone that looked like him meant nothing. There was like, a one in a million chance; and with seven billion people in the world, there was bound to be someone who looked similar. Richard had simply seen one of those.

The idea of it being anything else left his stomach tied up in knots. It burned just behind his eyes.

He took the lingering echoing silence as agreement. Good, maybe they'd get some actual sleep tonight then.

Virgil curled into a ball and pretended that he couldn't feel the hesitant small weight that pressed against his side. And if he wrapped an arm around that weight and let it ground him in the present (where else would he be, shut up, goddamn broken brain), then that was for him to know and everyone else to shut the hell up about.

* * *

 T _horns dug into his arms, long dragging cuts racking down him and dripping blood that disappeared from view as soon as he stopped focusing on it. The hoodie he wore was being shredded and, for some reason, that panicked him; almost as much as the figure in the distance he was trying to reach._

_The harder the struggle the more they dug into him and he was never going to escape._

_N e v e r–_

**_No–_ **

_This was how it always was, how it would always be–_

**_No he wouldn’t let it be–_ **

**_Hands reached out and Roman gripped the vines, ignoring the thorns and the pain that suddenly radiated throughout his fingers._ **

**_“You can’t have him,” he gritted out through his teeth, digging his heels in and feeling the ground roughen helpfully. “He’s ours, and he’s going to stay ours. I’m going to find him.”_ **

**_He yanked at them as hard as he could and stumbled back as the vines gave way. Roman blinked at the fading plants for a moment before his head snapped up and he meet achingly familiar brown eyes._ **

_Virgil stared at the copy of himself who knew him, Roman, and Virgil didn’t know how he knew that name or how he knew that Roman knew_ him _. His breath caught in his throat at the thought and Roman’s stunned face twisted into panicked concern._

_“No, Virge, calm down, it’s just me, you can’t wake up– !”_

* * *

Roman woke with his jaw clenched and hands tangled around the motel sheets. He could barely make out the orange glow of the rising sun between the currents, and he shifted to haul himself to his elbows. His eyes flicked around the room, some unsensible part of him desperately hoping to see Virgil there; for all that he knew, the other side wasn’t anywhere near them.

Victoria had curled up on the other bed, hands pulling the blankets closer to her, and Roman felt his eyes soften as he listened to her soft breathing. He closed his eyes, and after a centering breath he threw himself off of the bed and stalked towards the closet to get dressed for the day.

He winced as his hand closed down around the handle and he scowled down at it in confusion. His hands were littered with already purpling bruises and Roman blinked at them for a long moment. The part of him that was clearly a side of Thomas crowed that it was an effect of the dream, while the part that had grown up human reasoned that it was simple from getting tangled in the sheets.

He let out a long breath and ignored it for the moment. If it was from the dream, it had been worth it to save even a possibly fake-Virgil than to leave him to suffer. Roman had done that long enough.

He dug through his bag, hoping to find something that looked even vaguely like his costume from the vlogs. He didn’t have anything of the same quality, seeing as he wasn’t able to spend money on the same things Thomas had, but he did have a pair of black pants, along with a few white based shirts that went well with his cape. A red scarf wrapped around his neck to protect himself from the autumn cold and he was set to go.

Roman glanced at the sleeping Victoria once more, and glanced around the room to leave her a short note.

_I’m out grab some breakfast! Something healthy to encourage our natural beauty as royalty! I’ll see you when I get back! <3 _

He buried his hands in the scarf, tugging it up around his nose and slipping off into the dawn light. The streets weren’t as busy as they had been yesterday afternoon, and Roman took the moment to tilt his head back and enjoy the crisp air. He knew that his cheeks would be turning the slightest bit red and for a moment he longed for the more temperate climate of the coast.

A small coffee shop caught his eye and he grinned to himself, slipping inside and ordering a couple of coffees and scones to go. He handed the cashier Mr. Schneider’s card and let his eyes wander out the window as he waited for his food. Familiar amber eyes caught his and he blinked, before an idea struck him.

He whipped back around to the cashier. “Can I add one of those cinnamon rolls in as well?”

The woman blinked at him but shrugged and added it to his bag. Roman snatched it out of her hands and whirled on his heels to hurry back outside. The kid’s eyes widened at the sight of him, and Roman bit back the urge to call out to him as he scurried away to the safety of the nearest corner.

He set down the bag, and left the cinnamon roll, larger than his hand and dripping with icing, on the bench next to him. He leaned back and enjoyed the sunrise, trying his best not to glance at the boy watching him while he took slow careful sips of his coffee.

A strange sort of disappointment settled in his gut as the kid didn't move, and he had to forcefully reminded himself that it wasn’t Virgil. He sighed, and gathered up the rest of their breakfast before he strode off back towards the motel.

He left the roll behind.

* * *

 Virgil hated sleeping with a passion.

The cold air nipped at his fingers, which had only avoided going numb from the repeated motion of the needle he pulled through a set of Richard's clothes.

Sleep meant dreams, and dreams meant nightmares. Nightmares meant trying not to scream as he woke up and drew attention to them. They meant shaking Richard awake even though the kid needed his sleep, and bundling the two of them off to a different alley—a different hiding spot, a different corner; until the jitters left him and Richard had walked him through yet another breathing exercise.

Lately, sleep had meant seeing himself; only himself with that ridiculous outfit. It tunneled under his skin and left him even more jumpy than before because it didn't mean _anything_.

They were only dreams. They weren't real.

Virgil hissed as the needle caught his fingers. He eyed the well of blood in distaste, wondering if another stain on the old clothes would matter or not. It was so goddamn stupid and he shoved down the urge to go back to the only place he felt safe. It was a selfish, stupid, dangerous urge.

They didn't know how to protect themselves after all. Or that they needed to be protected at all.

Virgil growled under his breath and shoved the needle back into the bag sitting next to him. It didn't matter. Virgil had managed to make it this far only stopping by every couple of months; he could take them even farther than that.

Even with the sudden increase of activity from the strangers.

He didn't think he'd ever trust anyone in a suit and tie ever again even if they managed to get away from these assholes.

Virgil didn't even know what they wanted, other than the kid. He didn't even know why.

But it didn't shake the bone-deep certainty that he couldn't let them take his little brother.

Virgil froze as footsteps approached his hiding place, crouched in the shadows of a dumpster. He tugged his legs closer to his body and waited with bated breath. They were light enough to be Richard, but at the same time, he could never be sure. Better to wait and watch then ended up dragged away, leaving Richard alone to fend for himself.

A knock echoed against the dumpster, the same simple pattern from _Frozen,_ and Virgil let out the breath he had been holding.

"Gonna give me a heart attack one of these days. kid," Virgil called out and grinned at the giggle he was rewarded with.

Richard scrambled to join him in the small space between the metal and the concrete wall. He wiggled, crossing his eyes to watch whatever it was that he carried in his hands as he plopped down next to Virgil. They pressed up against each other, the body warmth a welcome addition in the early autumn air.

Virgil raised an eyebrow.

"And what horrible death have you brought us this time?" he asked as Richard poked at the bundle in his hands.

Richard hummed. The kid unwrapped the bundle and Virgil blinked at the sudden assault of smell that curled through their hiding spot. Sweet and cinnamon-y. Virgil sighed.

"I hope you didn't get caught stealing that," Virgil muttered.

"Didn't steal," Richard said. He held it out to Virgil who eyed it warily. "Given."

"Given?" Virgil sucked in a sharp breath. "By who–? No, never mind, get rid of it. It's no good."

Virgil's stomach, however, growled in protest. Richard leveled him with a disbelieving look, but Virgil wouldn't be swayed. It wasn't safe. It could be poisoned, or drugged, or have a razor blade baked into it or _something_. People didn't just hand out food for no reason. Not to them at least. Not to a ratted street kid, or a gaunt emo young adult.

"You," Richard said carefully; "looked like you."

Virgil's spine sat up ramrod straight ( _gay_ , the voice that said it was his; but confident, louder) and glared down at the clothes in his lap.

"I thought we were dropping that." The words dripped out of his mouth like acid, burning the two of them down to the bone. "You're seeing things, Richard. Kids have wild imaginations. I don't have a family; and if I did, I wouldn't want to see the fucks that abandoned me anyways."

"Didn't," Richard protested.

Virgil wilted at the simple word, his anger fleeing in the face of sheer exhaustion.

"Yeah, yeah, you want to believe that it was something else. If they _did_ want me, they're probably dead anyways." Virgil pressed a hand to his face and took a shuddering breath. He wanted to believed that they had abandoned him, whoever they were. It was the less painful option.

"Whatever. I don't care either way. We got all the family we need here anyways, right kid?"

Richard eyed him doubtfully. Virgil winced. Yeah, he didn't think he was much of a family either. Richard deserved better than him; deserved someone warm and kind. Someone smart as hell, someone loud and confident and bright as the stars in the sky.

Instead, he got Virgil. He got the anxious dumpster fire.

Richard jostled his shoulder, drawing him out of this thoughts. The kid smirked.

"Don't you dare–" Virgil hissed.

Richard brought the cinnamon roll up to his mouth and chomped down on it. _Brat_. Virgil was going to make him throw that bite back up just for that smug expression alone.

It didn't matter if Richard turned out to be fine and spent the morning coaxing him to have some of the rich food himself. Virgil had a _point_ to make.


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re certain?” Victoria directed to his phone and Roman could hear the way that Mr. Schneider rolled his eyes. They had been going back and forth on the issue for the past ten minutes and Roman just wanted to snatch his phone back and babble to the director about everything; the production, how it was going, or even how he was supposed to deal with the fact that they were making zero progress in almost a week and a half.

But Victoria was asking him about general records and what the capitol library would have on them, since Roman certainly wasn’t going to be the one to go through them. He would if he absolutely had to; but until it reached that point, he was going to wander through the city and parks, trying to follow his own feelings back to Virgil.

Because it had worked so well so far.

“They do in fact, keep a general census on record. Whether or not you can reach them depends on the state. You’re a smart kid, Double; you’ll figure it out,” Mr Schneider said dryly. “This should be nothing compared to talking people through their problems.”

“Har har har,” Victoria returned and ran a hand through her curls. “But alright. Thanks Professor; terrorize some students for me.”

“I don’t do it for you, kid,” Mr Schneider said snarkily, “I do it for the sweet tears of my students. I’m just teaching them how to survive at life.”

“Whatever you say, Sir,” Roman snickered, and outright laughed as Victoria shoved him off his chair. He ignored the ache in his chest; it was something he lived with now anyways. “I’m not the one who decided to take his courses, Victoria Sawyer.”

She sniffed, “Excuse you, I would never date someone like J.D.”

Roman felt his smile falter for a half second– ( _J.D-lightful_ )– before he forced himself to say, “Oh I wouldn’t cross out the possibility. He’s tall, lanky, got long hair—”

Victoria let out an inarticulate screech and Mr. Schneider sighed, “I’d rather not hear about your love lives if it’s all the same to you.” Roman snickered again, wondering how much of his attitude was an act and how much was him trying to forget his pain and—

“I can hear you think from here, Trouble,” the director added. “Leave Double to it, and let me tell you how horrible my newest lead is.”

Roman glanced up at Victoria and she made a shooing motion at him, turning to grab her own phone and likely leave to enter the library to continue her search. He didn’t waste a moment, snatching the phone up and turning the speaker off.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sing-songed, striding away from the bench and towards the park he had caught sight of on their way over.

“Of course not,” Mr Schneider murmured, “you never do.”

“Hey!” Roman yelped, but couldn’t help the goofy grin that crossed his face. It wasn’t often that the director had time away from both of his jobs, but Roman adored every moment he did. “ _I_ am an exceptional actor!”

He could hear the quirk of Mr. Schneider’s lips as he replied, “You most certainly are. Speaking of which, you should see this idiot on the stage, he can’t—”

Roman leaned his head back to let the autumn wind run through his hair, and grinned at the clouds that littered the sky. His director’s voice was a simple comfort and Roman couldn’t help but laugh at his complaining, shooting something teasing back to his mentor before a certain movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“Kid?” Mr. Schneider prodded as Roman trailed off. “Is something wrong?”

Roman bit down on the words that sprang to his lips at that and chirped out, “Nope! Just thought I saw a Broadway actor. But I was betrayed at the last moment and it was only a trick of the light.”

“If you say so, Trouble,” Mr. Schneider replied, falling back into an amused tone.  
  
Roman gasped, “And I do! I am a prince of the utmost respect! How dare you accuse me of such dishonesty! I would never–!”

“You would,” Mr Schneider cut him off with a chuckle. “You’re a good kid, but you’re an _actor_ , first and foremost. Lying’s in your blood.”

Roman blinked at that, and rolled his eyes. “So you always say, but being an actor doesn’t mean we really _lie,_ per se. The actors and the audience both know that what they are about to see isn’t real. After all, the audience knows that they’re going to see a play and nothing more.”

“Do they always though?” Schneider countered. “All the world’s a stage, kid. Who’s to say we’re not always acting? You are a walking example of that, kid — after all,  you’re not always as confident as you portray yourself to be.”

Roman’s eyes flickered over the to the kid that he saw move at the edge of his vision once more. He swallowed the thick feeling in his throat that the director’s words caused.

“It looks like Vic needs something from me,” he lied, ignoring the rock that settled on his chest. “We'll call you back later, Sir.”

He hung up before the man could say more, and immediately rocked on his heels from the wave of guilt that hit him. Schneider was just trying to help—to look at Roman and what he could do to improve as he always did—but Roman wasn’t in the mood for even constructive criticism at the moment.

Besides, there was something more important to focus on.

He shoved his hands into his jean pockets, his phone with them, and let his cape swirl around his shoulders as he walked steadily around the park. Once, twice; listening as the small footsteps behind him grew closer each time. He had to swallow down a smile, and wondered how much the others would have adored this kid.

He made it halfway through the next lap before the kid settled in next to him. Roman really did smile then, keeping his eyes ahead as the kid studied him from the corner of his eye.

“Same,” the child murmured, a breath on the wind. There was a tinge of disbelief in his tone.

“Excuse you–” Roman couldn’t stop himself– “but I am one of a kind!” He winced and cursed himself for leaping ahead without thinking. It was going to be Virgil all over again. Roman was just, apparently, incapable of being calm around people who needed him to be.

The kid blinked at him, visibly startled before an amused smirk crossed his face, there and gone against like mist in the morning. It felt familiar but was shaped too wrong for him to figure out where it was from.

“Not,” he said and Roman tried to control his screech he really, really did.

“Am too!” His hands flailed in the air before freezing as the kid flinched back form the sudden movement.

“Ah.” He blinked, and gritted his teeth against a wave of anger. He took a deep breath and murmured, “My apologies.”

The kid shrugged as he dropped his hands and whispered, “Not you, not that.”

Roman blinked, trying to work through the short words. The kid shrugged again and waved at him.

“Just–” He bit his lips and Roman wanted to ruffle his hair as his nose scrunched up. “Thanks.”

Roman took his turn at shrugging, feeling a flush creep up his ears at the frank gratitude.

“Well, a prince can’t just leave others in trouble! Every citizen is to be cared for! What else is royalty for?”

The kid studied him again, and for a moment, it wasn’t Virgil looking at him, but _Logan._ The thought made Roman wanted to cry. Odin’s breath, he missed them all.

The kid hummed and his hand twitched, like he was unsure of what he wanted to do with it before he waved again and turned to disappear into the city once more.

Roman felt his hand raise to hold him back before it dropped again. He tugged the scarf on his neck a little bit higher up on his face, and wrapped his cape around his shoulders a little tighter.

Maybe if he joined Vic in the library he wouldn’t feel so cold. Maybe he wouldn't feel so alone.

* * *

Victoria leaned back in her chair. She scrubbed at her hair, wrinkling her nose as a few ginger strands came loose. The library's silence pressed down at her and Vic grit her teeth. If she strained to listen, she could hear a few muted whispers through the stacks of books; but for the most part she was alone.

Ha, as if this weren't exactly what was going to happen at the end of this.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge that thought. The first census sat in front of her, just like it had when she had first entered and pulled it out. If she could only get _started_ ,—get the ball rolling down the hill—she would forget the exhaustion that pulled at her bones like stones dragging her down into the ocean.

Not that drowning sounded like a bad idea at the moment.

Vic sighed. She propped her arms against the desk she was borrowing and poked at the papers in front of her. She stared at her hand and willed it to flip the page to look at the next one. She just wanted a simple motion, goddammit. It wasn't that hard. So why did it feel like trying to climb a mountain?

She took a shuddering breath and let her head fall down to rest against the desk. Because she was broken and couldn't get by without calling her therapist. Only Picani wasn't exactly her therapist anymore; it was a little hard to set up appointments when going on an Epic Quest.

Too bad books and stories never mentioned _that_ part of being a hero.

If Victoria could even be considered that.

Roman was the hero between the two of them. The prince; the Chosen One who would go on an adventure to save the world. Finding his brothers was only the start of this, she could feel it deep in her soul. Roman had great things in store for him, great and terrible things.

Victoria was just his chauffeur. His depressed chauffeur.

She blinked rapidly and swiped at her face. She tried to dig up old techniques that Picani had taught her but everything other than the page in front of her felt like static. Which was just- exactly how her life went, and how it was going to go. It always made her feel like the scum of the earth because _Roman_ was the one who had it worse than her, but he always greeted the day with a smile, real or not.

God, why couldn't she be like him?

She closed her eyes and grit her teeth. Whatever. She'd let her thoughts run however they would.

"Hey."

Vic jumped at the voice that came from behind her. Roman grinned, and raised an eyebrow.

"Who was that?" he asked. Vic blinked at him as he flopped into the chair next to her's, propping his legs up on part of the table. She whacked at his shoes lightly, which only earned her an even brighter smile. She smiled back at him, and wondered at his ability to cheer her up whatever she was thinking.

"Who was what?" she asked.

"You know." Roman pointed at the phone in front of her and Vic wondered when she had pulled that out. She must be more out of it than she had originally thought. "On the phone. Who was it?"

"I wasn't on the phone?" Victoria replied.

Roman blinked at her.

"Huh. Okay, I could have sworn that you were talking to someone; but go off, I guess."

"Oh fuck you," Vic said breezily. "You shouldn't have snuck up on me, I could have dropped my croissant."

Roman cackled, and Vic grinned at the shushing noise that came from the librarian’s desk a few shelves down. She flicked Roman’s ankle gently before reaching for the census in front of her. She had quite a lot of work to do if they wanted to find Virgil.

And strangely, for the first time since they had reached Springfield, Victoria felt like they’d find Virgil there. The thought settled deep in her brian and stayed there, as if planted simply by the idea that she could track Virgil’s history here in the library.

She would do it. She had to.

* * *

  _It was a labyrinth, and Virgil felt a part of him relax. It wasn’t a good dream, but it wasn’t a nightmare either; just the endless alleys of his city, twisting unrecognizably the longer that he walked. His footsteps echoed in the emptiness, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his warn jacket._

**_“Oh wow,” Roman commented, striding along beside him and ignoring the fact that Virgil startled, stumbling back. “I knew you were an emo nightmare, not that you actually had any.”_ **

**_He paused. “Then again, I think I was the only one to ‘have’ dreams; at least in the sense that I created them for Thomas.”_ **

_Virgil gritted his teeth and picked up his pace, hoping that Roman would leave him alone if he did. The doppelganger was simple a figment of his self consciousness; he wasn’t real._

_“Rude,” the figment muttered as he effortlessly kept up with him._

_“Leave me the fuck alone,” Virgil muttered, and in turn ignored the wave of hurt that radiated from the figment much like Roman had ignored his fear. He hunched farther into himself, taking a turn at random, and tried to ignore the other male who watched him closely. It was too sharp—too knowing—and Virgil was too used to the idea that he needed to hide in order to feel comfortable._

_“Any idea where you’re going, Dead-alus?” Roman asked, and Virgil flinched again._

_“Does it matter in the end?” he grumbled back, before slamming his mouth shut. He needed to stop feeding whatever the hell this was. Besides, it would always end up the same, in that—_

* * *

 Virgil gasped awake, the sudden jerk jostling Richard off of his shoulders. The kid yelped, fingers scraping along the wall as he hauled himself upwards.

"Attack? Alright? Run?" Richard shot off rapid fire. His eyes raked across the alleyway to check for dangers even as Virgil pressed a hand to his own face to hold back tears.

He just wanted it to _stop._

"I'm fine," he rasped. "I'm fine, just- Just go back to sleep kid. Everything's– " _gucci_.

He bit down on his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

That was Roman's word, and Virgil hated that he knew that. It was insane. He was insane. People didn't just have personifications of themselves in their head. Those figments didn't just take lives of their own. It wasn't possible. It _wasn't._

Virgil tried to breath, the action rattling in his chest as Richard's smaller hands tugged on his own. He let Richard manhandle him into a more comfortable position, the kid practically crawling into his lap and wrapping Virgil's hands around his shoulders like a demented blanket. Demented, heh; that's exactly what he was.

"Not alright," Richard murmured. "Will be."

"Yeah," Virgil tried to agree, the word getting caught in his throat. He couldn't even be the responsible adult in this relationship, that's how pathetic he was.

The same dreams—he wouldn't classify them quite as nightmares—plagued him for weeks and he could barely function anymore. He had been better than this.

Death—his own death played on repeat over and over again—was something he could deal with; something he _had_ dealt with for as long as he could remember.

The feeling of being dragged away from warmth and safety, someone screaming his name, a hand trying to grasp his only to slip away, and then a rippling pain along his chest and head.

Virgil figured that it was some long forgotten memory. Something that he had repressed out of trauma like he did half his life.

Only Roman's voice was starting to sound an awful lot like the the one he had been hearing all of his life, and Virgil refused to let his brain finish connecting that thought. He couldn't deal with it. He knew himself; he knew how badly he'd crumple if he thought about what was probably the truth, and Richard still needed him. Or at least pretended to and Virgil would take what he could get.

Some truths were better off forgotten.

"Home," Richard suggested for the second time that month.

Virgil leaned forward, resting his forehead against Richard's head. His brain felt like it was stuffed full of cotton; enough so that the normal clamoring of danger he would have had fell silent — a welcome relief for all that he felt almost like he was drifting through life.

Going home would mean he'd feel safe and if he felt safe, he'd fall asleep again; and Virgil didn't want to sleep again.

But at the same time, he couldn't dredge up the energy to argue with the kid at the moment.

So he nodded, pliant and exhausted. He wanted to die — or maybe not die, but for someone to bludgeon his head until he fell into a dreamless coma for the next year or two. Maybe then he'd be able to rest without feeling guilty.

Between Richard, and the nagging feeling that if he fell asleep someone would snatch him away, and Roman, with the fear and deja vu the dream figment brought —Virgil just wanted a moment to himself where he could drift into nothingness.

He blinked sluggishly as Richard stood up and grasped his arm, trying to haul him to his feet.

"Home," Richard repeated again, firmer this time and Virgil sighed.

"Alright, kid," he murmured and swayed as he got to his feet. "We'll go home."

He took a stumbling step forward. Richard made a concerned noise in the back of his throat, urging him to hurry up and Virgil hissed at him. The kid scowled and nudged him again until Virgil could move at what was a sort of normal walk.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye and Virgil stiffened.

"Richard—" he warned, and Richard bit the bottom of his lip.

"Bait," he whispered, and Virgil felt the breath rush from his lungs as if he had been stabbed.

"No, kid don't you dare—"

"Faster," Richard whispered back heatedly. "Know more. Small. Won't catch. Meet at home."

"Fucking hate you," Virgil snarled back as Richard stepped away from him, "You're going to get up both killed. Or worse, caught. Get back here and we'll figure out a place to hide until they go away."

"I'm right and you know it," Richard added, and fuck, the kid knew he was weak against full sentences.

Before he had a chance to reply, Richard smiled at him, small and sad before disappearing down the other end of the alley with a purposely loud clatter.

Fuck.

* * *

 “Okay,” Victoria said, sliding a piece of paper over the counter towards Roman, and taking a deep breath. Roman paused, a leaf of his salad drifting off of his fork as he blinked at her. “I’ve found twenty one Virgil’s in the state of Illinois and of that, only three have a name similar to Sanders.”

The fork clattered loudly as Roman dropped it without a thought, hand snatching the paper from its resting place. He scanned through the words, skipping over everything he deemed unimportant (which was most of it) and settled on one highlighted part.

“He’s _here_ ,” he murmured and felt a grin grow on his face.

_The last known whereabouts of the young orphan Virgil Sanders was Springfield, Illinois; where he is thought to have run away from his newest foster home—_

Victoria’s mouth twisted downwards. “I mean, he could be. Or he could be anywhere, seeing as that article is over five years old.”

Roman shook his head. “No. No, Virgil would stay where he’s comfortable. Leaving would mean more risks and things he doesn’t know about, especially without Logan. He’d find a place to hole up and stay there. A…”

He paused and felt a soft smile crawl up his face as the memory struck him.

“He’d stay in his bubble.”

Victoria's brow furrowed before she nodded.

“So that means–” She cut herself off, and her head snapped up a grin growing on her own face. Roman grinned back at her, feeling his cheeks ache.

“We’re so damn close,” he whispered back and Victoria whooped, throwing her hands in the air. She brought them back down and reached out, hooking her hands through his own. The silk of the gloves she wore were soft as he squeezed back, food forgotten between them.

“What sort of places does he like? We can start there, and narrow our search through the city,” she added, voice bubbling with excitement. “If he hasn’t gone far then we should be able to get through it in a couple of days, weeks at most. Springfield isn’t that big.”

One of the better dressed patrons glanced at them and the racket they were making, and Roman fought down the urge to flip them off in honor of Virgil’s need to fight The Man, promptly ignoring them.

“A map!” Roman added, already hauling his friend to her feet, “We can mark a map–”

“–and keep track of all the different places we’ve checked before!” Victoria finished triumphantly and raised a hand for a high five. Roman gladly returned it, slinging an arm over her shoulder as they left. He blinked as the patron that had looked at them stood up as well. It wasn’t that strange that they were leaving as well, but something about them nagged at the edge of his brain.

“You’re gonna love him,” Roman promised, letting the thought drift away as the patron did. “He likes to make poor judgement calls about my ideas, like you do. As if I could do anything less than perfect.”

Victoria's smile tightened for the fraction of a second before she nudged him lightly. “Of course, how could we be so foolish. The epitome of perfection was in front of us all along and we never figured it out. How could we be so blind?”

“Exactly,” Roman agreed with an exaggerated sniff. “The problem is with you and not with me.”

Victoria's laugh echoed out through the street, and Roman tightened his grip around her shoulders. Someone crossed the corner of his vision again, and he blinked as yet another man in a suit fell into step behind them. It wasn’t anything huge, they were walking through a city after all, but he stiffened at the sight involuntarily.

Victoria's arm slipped around his waist in return, and his eyes flickered down to meet the question in her eyes.

“Though I suppose that since you’d _follow_ me anywhere, you can’t be completely blind to my perfection,” Roman added slyly. Victoria nodded grimly at him, with a slight bob of her head, and Roman wanted to scream to the world about how amazing his best friend was. She followed easily as they drifted towards a more crowded street, keeping up mindless chatter - something about one of her CPR certification class or psychology as Roman kept an eye on their tail.

There was a man following them.

Something darted around the next corner, and Roman almost felt like groaning at the familiar head of hair. Amber eyes pecked out at him, and quietly gestured emphatically for the two to follow him. Roman hesitated for a split second, before steering Victoria in the direction the kid led them.

They made a sharp turn into an alleyway, and Roman opened his mouth to question the kid on what the Nyx’s arm was going on, when the kid pressed a finger to his lips. Roman’s lip thinned into a white line, but he bit down on his tongue. Footsteps neared their position, and the kid tugged on his cape.

Roman blinked at him, and the kid scowled, tugging on it harder. Roman glanced up to meet Victoria’s equally confused gaze. The kid’s eyes grew more panicked as their tag along grew closer and he tugged on the cape one last time before ducking under it, waving at Vic to follow his example.

She shrugged, and Roman lifted an arm to sweep the cape up and over them both, mouth gaping as the cloth seemed to extend. It rose and almost danced on a non-existent wind,settling around the three of them just as the man turned the corner. Roman could feel Victoria’s breath hitch from where she was pressed up against his chest, but the man’s eyes skipped over their position. He reached up and pressed a hand to his ear, muttering rapidly and quietly enough that Roman couldn’t quite make out what he said. Before he knew it, the man in the suit walked away.

The kid ducked out from under his cape and let out a slow breath, his eyes still a little wild as he watched the entrance to the alleyway.

“Huh,” Victoria murmured, fingering the cape. “Magic. Alright, so that’s a thing. Congrats on the invisibility cape, Harry.”

“ _MAGIC?!_ ” Roman screeched and then bite down on as both of his companions glared at him. He slammed a hand against his mouth.

“Magic is real?!” He bounced on the balls of his feet, not sure if he was terrified or out of his mind with excitement because _magic_. If magic was real, what else was?

“I mean,” Victoria pointed out dryly, “I thought it would be rather obvious, with you know, the whole point of our trip in the first place.”

“But still!” He babbled, and giggled, “Magic, Vic, _Magic!_ ”

She let out a fond sigh and patted his arm, before her eyes flickered over to the child who watched them quietly and warily. She eyed him, long and hard enough that Roman winced, wondering if it was one of those times he’d need to interfere.

Instead she crouched down, and laid her hands on her thighs.

“Hey there kid, what’s your name? I’m Victoria.”

The kid glanced between the two of them, eyes flicking up to Roman, back to Victoria and then up again. He chewed on his lip lightly and then, when he seemed to realize he was doing it, brought his thumb up to chew on the nail instead.

After a long moment, the quiet voice spoke up. “Richard.”

“Well Richard,” Victoria replied, curt but not sharp, “thank you for helping us get away from that man. Do you think you can tell us who he is?”

Richard’s eyes flickered up to Roman’s again, something unreadable in his eyes before he shook his head almost violently. His hands shook and Victoria made a soothing noise from the back of her throat as Roman adjusted his cape once more.

“Hey, hey it’s fine,” Victoria replied, her hands coming up slowly to show her palms. “You don't have to tell us anything, alright? You helped us out, and it wouldn’t be fair to you to press further, but we’d appreciate it.”

The kid blinked, his brow furrowed in confusion before he shook his head again and took a step back. He shook his head again and then turned on his heel, disappearing into the shadows. Roman took a step after him, before Victoria's hand held him back.

“Victoria!” he snapped. “What gives?”

Her eyes never left the spot the kid disappeared and murmured, “I don't know, I don’t trust him.”

“You don't trust anyone,” Roman snapped back, and took a moment to relish in her flinch before the guilt hit him.

“He knows something Vic,” he wheedled instead. “Magic could help us find the others, especially if it’s the reason we’re apart in the first place.”

Her lips thinned, and she replied curtly, “I know. But he kept looking at you. Why only you?”

“He knows me,” Roman countered, feeling his own anger build. “We’ve met before briefly, and he thought I was harmless enough. Besides, it’s not like _you're_ not the friendliest person at first.”

 _That_ was a line he never should have crossed. Roman watched as her eyes dropped, shoulders hunching in on themselves.

“Oh– oh god, Vic, I didn’t—”

He reached a hand out to her and she shrugged it off, standing to her full height.

“We should get started on that map,” she said flatly, as she turned her back on him. “We have work to do.”

Roman let his hand drop and bit his lip, jaw clenching as he followed his best friend out ot the alleyway. And even then, with the guilt practically dripping off of his fingertips, he couldn’t help but turn to look, wondering if Richard was still there. Amber eyes met his own, and then disappeared once more.

Roman took a deep breath, and left.


	8. Chapter 8

**_“You never answered me last time,” Roman said steadily, not willing to wait around this time as they wandered through the endless alleys. Virgil scoffed at him, shrugging one shoulder and not replying._ **

_He had refused to truly reply to something that was just going to leave him in the end. Maybe his mind had snapped under the pressure of everything going on. It was a trick of the mind; something he shouldn’t take comfort in — as if he even had the right to_ comfort _._

_Roman frowned at him, and Virgil took a sharp turn that left the prince like figment stumbling after him. He hated the fact that feelings and thoughts seemed to bleed together, leaving him open and vulnerable. His shoulders hiked higher; and carefully, slowly, Roman reached out for him._

_The warmth of the hand that danced over his shoulder before retreating almost broke through his walls, and Virgil bit back a sob. Fuck, he was so lonely and scared and in the end he’d wake up and this whole thing will have just been a dream—_

**_“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Roman said gently, quietly, and closed his eyes, remembering the way that dreams had once danced under his fingertips. “They’re meant to be escapes, Virgil; something that makes getting up a little bit easier. Here let me show you—”_ **

**_“No!” Virgil snapped, his body flinching away from him, and Roman cursed himself. “Don’t you dare!”_ **

**_“Okay, okay, okay, I won’t!” he replied. “Prince’s honor!”_ **

**_Virgil eyed him, before muttering under his breath as he relaxed, “Not that you’re much of a prince.”_ **

_Virgil couldn’t help the way that his lips twitched up at the unholy noise that escaped from Roman’s mouth. For a moment he could have sworn the whole exchange felt familiar; comforting — like wrapping himself in his favorite hoodie. And he thought about asking as Roman’s eyes sharpened in anticipation, but—_

* * *

 Victoria knew that the moment she looked at Roman, her anger would fade. It already was and if anything that only made the self hate curdling in her gut even worse.

She should be mad at him for what he said, but all she could think of was that he was right.

She wasn't the friendliest with new people. She could fake it—could plaster on a smile as best as she could—but Vic craved familiarity and routine. She didn't even know why Roman stuck with her. Hell, she could barely even remember when and how they had meet. She didn't blame him for simply putting up with someone like her.

But for once, she wanted to hang on to her anger. This strange sharp feeling that didn't match the worry she normally felt for Roman.

The kid knew something. And not just about magic.

Richard acted like he _knew_ Roman; not just in the ‘I ran into you on the street’ sort of know, but in the ‘I would trust you with my life’ sort of sense. They had been in Springfield for a couple of weeks at most at this point; there wasn't enough time for Richard to build that sort of relationship with Roman; not to mention the way that Richard had looked like Roman would come to the rescue at the drop of a hat.

And the fact that the kid knew that Roman's cape had magic when _they_ themselves hadn't; it didn't add up and the fact that Roman didn't see it made her blood boil.

Roman made a noise from her left side—a hesitant, but joyous sound—and the anger evaporated, like Vic knew it would.

Damn him and his ability to cheer her up. She wanted to sulk for once; wanted to try and process the feelings that sat in her chest like a weight.

"They've got a copy of Bon Jovi's original albums here!" He pointed at the shop they were walking past as they headed back to the motel for the day and Victoria twitched at the motion.

 _Damn him_.

She picked her pace up so that he wouldn't see the way her eyes had wavered. Like they always would. She wanted him to see what was up and that would never happen if she didn't stand her ground for once.

 _Not that it would happen_.

The thought hit her, bitter and dark. Victoria hunched over the weight of it and bit down on the bottom of her lip hard enough to draw blood. She was so stupid in thinking she could do it. If she didn't hold on to her anger at Roman, they'd go running recklessly into another situation blind.

If she didn't, she'd probably kill herself out of self hate and guilt.

What right did she have to feel like this when Roman was only trying to make her feel better?

She was the worst friend, a monster, an absolute _bitch_ —

"Hey," Roman said softly as she tugged the door to the motel open. "It's going to be alright."

Vic trembled at the words. Any hope she had of staying strong evaporated with her emotions, leaving her feeling wrung out and exhausted. The numb dissociation she settled into was an old and hated friend; a cloak wrapped around her shoulders that was nowhere near as warm as Roman’s.

Her body moved towards the bathroom mechanically, Roman’s voice distant and unheard as she shut the door behind her. She stared at the stranger in the mirror, the overweight ginger blinking back at her blearily.

And Victoria _hated_ her.

* * *

They were everywhere. Now that Roman had noticed the first person following them, he couldn’t stop noticing the others. All of them were well dressed, but without a solid age range that he could pin down. He tried not to think about it too hard or else he’d ache for Logan and his natural observations, or Virgil and his heightened senses.

Victoria was a silent ghost at his side as they ducked out of the hotel, keeping a subtle eye out for the day’s tag along. She gripped the map in her hand loosely, looking exhausted in a way he hadn’t seen in months. He wondered if she had called Dr. Picani recently; he desperately hoped that she had.

“The clubs were all a bust,” he babbled, the cape around his shoulder acting as a comfort he didn’t know that he had needed. They hadn’t figured out what her gloves did, but seeing as they came from the same source, Roman figured it was safe to say that they were magic too.

He continued when he heard no response back, “That means we should check out the libraries next. They’d remind him of Logan; not to mention act as a quiet space for him that he could tuck into.”

Victoria let out a quiet hum, and Roman pasted on a fake smile in return, struggling to remember how to deal with her depression and moods. Hell, he didn't know if this was his fault or something that had been building for a while.

“Come Vic-cules! On to the adventure for the day!” he cheered, and dragged her along behind him, hand gentle around her wrist. The nickname earned him a ghost of a smile and his heart soared in response.

They weren’t okay, but they were going to be. They were going to find Virgil, and then Patton and Logan, and then everything would be _perfect_.

“Okay,” Victoria said softly, and Roman squeezed her hand. His eyes flickered to their tag along, a woman today, before he replied slowly.

“Shall we take on the subquest of finding a book to read ourselves? Come! We shall endeavor to find one together!” Victoria let out a soft, breathy giggle, her grip on the map tightening. Roman’s grin grew in both size and genuineness.

“As long as it’s not Harry Potter again,” she rebutted gently—hesitantly—and Roman bit back a squeal.

He tilted his head up imperiously instead and said, “You love Harry Potter and we both know it. There is _no_ such thing as too much Harry Potter, in fact.”

Victoria squealed as he dragged her closer to himself and smirked at her.

“Harry Potter,” he sung, a pep in his step. “Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Harry Potter—”

“Stoooop,” she giggled, shiving at his face.

“Never!” He cried, and snagged her hand to press a gentle kiss on her knuckles, and threading his fingers through hers. “Well, only if you forgive me.”

Victoria sucked in a sharp breath and smiled tremulously at him, her hand squeezing his back.

“No, Ro,” she said softly, and he didn’t have time for his heart to drop before she whispered, “I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m just not taking this whole thing as well as I hoped I would. You deserve someone better. And your family, and just—”

“Oh, hush,” Roman said, his grin growing as he planted a finger on her lips. “We’ve both made mistakes. You’re not horrible and the next time you suggest that you’re not the best friend I could have, I’m going to take a sword to your self-doubt.”

Victoria giggled again, and she stepped closer to him, their hips brushing. “I don’t think that, that’s possible Ro. Seeing as you’d have to get into my head first.”

Roman scoffed, eyes scanning the street for their turn, anxious to get back to looking for Virgil now that things were settled between the two of them.

A mop of brown hair caught his attention, bobbing through the wave of people, and finally snagging the edge of cape.

Victoria blinked as Richard suddenly appeared next to her, tugging desperately on the cloth.

“Please,” the kid gasped out.

“Richard?” Roman asked. “What—”

“ _Please_ ,” Richard cut him off, and Roman glanced at Victoria who bit her lip. After what felt like an eternity, she nodded slowly, and Roman knelt down next to Richard.

He placed his hands on the kid’s shoulders and said seriously, “Show me.”

Richard’s eyes lit up, and the next thing Roman knew, he was being dragged through the city, trying not to trip over the desperate child in front of him. The crowds thinned out around them, the state the buildings darkening and degrading into unkempt apartments and houses.

Richard slowed down as they became the only ones around, and tugged on Roman’s cape.

“Cape,” he whispered, and Roman nodded, swinging the cloth around all three of them. The golden pattern on it shimmered until they could see through it and Roman had to bit back a giddy giggle at the show of magic. Victoria nudged him, reproval in her eyes as they shuffled forwards after Richard, and all he could do was grin back at her.

She rolled her eyes fondly, and turned to study the child in front of them silently, likely weighing if they could trust him or not. Richard halted them at a corner, and waved around it, the three of them inching forwards to examine the situation.

Victoria’s hand snapped out and stifled the excited gasp that rose in Roman’s mouth at the house that Richard pointed out. The quaint house that greeted them could have been pulled straight from story books, and Roman fell in love instantly. The rust red shingles were the exact same shade as in the movies, with a pale blue exterior that could have been mistaken for white. All of it surrounded by a simple garden that Roman would have bet his life was full of herbs as well as flowers.

It was small enough that there couldn’t have been a full family living there; perhaps an adorable old couple. The creator in him screeched.

But the fly in soup was the woman, leaning against the white picket fence and idly scrolling through her phone. The suit she wore screamed that she was out of place in the small neighborhood, and ever so often she glanced up to scan the street. She was looking for something.

Expecting someone.

“Not safe,” Richard hissed, before his breath hitched and he repeated himself, panic rising in his tone. “Not _safe_.”

Roman ignore the way that he could practically hear Victoria’s teeth grinding in frustration and curiosity and nodded.

He crouched down so that Richard could hear him better as he murmured back, “We need to get rid of her, right?”

Richard nodded, his head bobbing rapidly in relief. Then he turned and hesitated, placing a hand on Victoria's gloves. He didn’t meet her eyes as he muttered, “Please.”

Victoria jolted, scrambling to make sure the cape had stayed on her during the sharp movement and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Me?” Her eyes flickered up to the woman, and then back down to Richard. Air hissed out silently between his teeth. She nodded and clenched her hands. “The gloves right?”

Richard nodded, solemn and pale. Victoria took a shuddering deep breath, and looked up at Roman with wide eyes.

“Welp, time to hope that theses are as easy to use as yours is.” She slid out from under the cape and strolled casually towards the woman, hands jammed in her pocket. Roman bit his lip, and knew that it was as much to hide her shaking as t was to hide the gloves from her target.

The woman glanced up, and Roman felt his heart sink as recognition flashed through her eyes as they locked on Victoria’s face. Richard’s hand gripped his arm, and Roman fought against the urge to leap to his friend’s defense.

 _She wasn’t in danger._ He took a deep breath. _She could take care of herself, most of the time._

Victoria waved, the action more of a sharp jerk of her hand than anything thing else. The silk of her gloves caught the light of the sun and the woman’s eyes seemed to snap to it.

“Hey, so you know you’re being a creepy stalker right now, right?”

Roman fought back a groan, burying his head in his hands.

The woman raised an eyebrow, eyes darting to Victoria’s face before they drifted back to the glove still in the air. “There’s no crime in waiting for my ride.”

Victoria’s eyes narrowed, her shoulders bunching up in anger.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure there’s no other reason you’re here. I’d say **you should take a hike** , but—”

She was cut off, a yelp of startlement slipping from her lips as the woman suddenly kicked off of the fence and walking away.

“Okay,” Victoria said slowly, blinking in shock. Roman lunged forward, cape fluttering back to settle around his shoulders at the action.

Her lips quirked up as she turned to look at him, and she wiggled her fingers.

“These are not the droids you’re looking for,” she said with a grin. “Use the force Roman, _use the Force_.”

Roman cackled, picking her up and spinning her through the air.

“That was amazing Ana-Vic!” He set her down and let his eyes drift up to the house in front of them. Now that he had a chance to look at it closer, he realized that it wasn’t only a dream, but a dream with _shadows_. The yard was too large for a house this far into city, and they had managed to plant actual _trees_ along the edges of the yard.

“Woah,” Roman breathed. Victoria hummed from next to him as Richard scurried to their side.

“Benevolent fairy godmother in the center of Springfield. I’d bet you a five on it.”

“Witch,” Roman countered. “Witch, not a fairy, and make it ten.”

Victoria cackled as she reach out to shake his hand and Roman felt just about fit to bursting as Richard rolled his eyes at them.

It wasn’t the same as the other sides of Thomas, but he wasn’t alone. And for now, that was enough.

* * *

  _He was strapped to a table, voice growing hoarse from his screaming as he struggled against the restraints. He could feel the leather digging into his skin, and the pain made him panic more, thrashing until the fragile skin broke. He couldn’t calm down, couldn’t breath, couldn’t break free—_

**_Roman burst in, sword in hand and eyes wide._ **

**_“Virgil!” he cried, scrambling to help the other side of the straps that held him down. Silver gleamed at the edges of his vision, and he couldn’t help the low growl that built in the back of his throat. It could take him just a snap of the fingers to fix all this, if he could remember how._ **

**_If Virgil would let him._ **

_“No,” Virgil murmured, exhausted and sweat soaking through his clothes. He refused to give up any more control, he refused to let someone have that sort of power over him._

_“Hey,” Roman said gently, brushing Virgil’s bangs out of his eyes. Virgil peeled his eyes open to meet Roman’s brilliant smile. “Oh why, there you are. Come on, it’s going to be fine. Let’s get out of here.”_

_He took the hand that Roman offered him, leaning against the figment, and muttered under his breath, “As if; good luck finding a way out of this hell.”_

_Roman scoffed in reply and Virgil couldn’t help but lean against his chest as Roman dragged him out of the lab. A door opened and Virgil didn’t need to open his eyes to know that they had strode right back out into the labyrinth of alleys._

_“It never ends,” Virgil whispered, and blinked as Roman’s hand around his waist tightened._

_“It can,” Roman said fiercely, “and it will.”_

_Virgil chuckled bitterly and Roman’s voice tightened with determination._

_“I will make it so, no matter what it takes. We just– We just have to get you out of this. Virgil, it’s just a dream. You reach the end of this maze and—”_

_“Exactly,” Virgil snapped. “It’s just a_ dream _!” He shoved back and away from Roman, missing the warmth the figment had proved. “It’s a_ dream _and no matter what I do, I’m going to wake up and you won’t be_ real _. So why the_ hell _do you think this matters?”_

_Roman’s face twisted, first in hurt and then in anger._

_“You really believe that?” he demanded. “That none of this is real? That none of this matters? Where’s your_ hope _Virgil?”_

_“IT DIED WITH YOU!” He screamed back and Roman flinched, eyes wide. Virgil waved his arms, trying to cut the haunting image out of his vision. His voice dropped to a pained whisper._

_“It died with you and Patton and Logan and—”_

_A sob caught in his throat, and he wrapped his arms around his waist, hunching in on himself. The dreamscape flickered around him, the endless grey labyrinth giving way to a warmer, well-used living room before it was gone again._

_“Y-you’re not real, or you’re dead — and I-I know which one is easier to deal with,” he murmured, trying to settle his breathing and failing badly. “I’d rather forget what I can never have then– then be forced to relive it every day.”_

_He swiped at his face sharply, and glared up at Roman._

_“Let me forget,” he said miserably, “let me—”_

_“No.” Roman’s voice was strong and Virgil flinched at the arms that wrapped around his own. His eyes flickered up to meet identical ones full of fire before dropping back down. “I won’t. I’m_ real _Virge, I promise. This very moment, I’m looking for you, and I’ll never_ stop looking _for you. Because—”_

_Roman’s lips twisted and Virgil’s eyes widened at the look._

_“No,” he breathed, “Roman, please,_ **no—** _”_

_Roman tugged him straight through a wall, ignoring the way that Virgil thrashed in his grip, and the light seared against his eyes. He snarled, oblivious to the familiar feel of the stairs they stood at the base of and he swung out, pained and desperate._

_Roman crashing back was the last thing he saw in Thomas’s living room before—_

* * *

Roman felt himself flail as he tipped off the bed, crashing onto the ground face first. The blankets tangled up in his legs and he struggled to free himself. He managed to heave himself into a better position, feeling the rug burn against his forearms as he desperately scanned around for Virgil. His jaw ached and he wouldn’t stop shaking, but he needed know that Virgil was alright.

That he hadn’t ruined everything between them again.

He didn’t realize that he was zoning out until a soft hand placed itself on his cheek.

“Come on, Ro,” Victoria murmured softly, tugging at his legs to set him on the ground. “Breath with me, deep steady breaths. Come on, you can do this.”

His chest shuddered and he winced as her hand reached for the left side of his face, and he heard her take in a sharp breath.

“God, Roman, what happened?” Her hand pulled away, and she helped him lean back against the bed. “Stay here, I’m going to get an ice pack.”

He closed his eyes, weighing heavily against the mattresses against his back as he listened to Victoria’s hurried footsteps. The raw panic in Virgil’s voice nipped at his heels and he knew that his hands were shaking again; his breath hitched as he thought about it. He pressed a hand to his face, desperately trying to hold back tears.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He had let his impulsivity get in the way _again_. He had crossed the line with Virgil _again_. And now the other side was never going to acknowledge the past, or their shared vision, or whatever the hell was up. Shoving Virgil into a room full of memories hadn’t worked when they were trying to help Patton, why had he thought it would help now?

His shoulders hunched forwards, and a hand on his knee broke him from his spiraling thoughts.

“Hey,” Victoria said as his eyes snapped open to look at her. He winced as she pressed the bag of ice gently on his forming bruise and her eyes softened. She squeezed his knee. “It’s going to be alright Gene-Ro Shang. War’s not over yet.”

“Maybe it is,” he choked out. “Maybe he hates me now.”

“Lies and slander,” Victoria returned softly; “no one could hate you.”

The bitter laughter that slipped from his throat was as disbelieving as it was sharp. She watched him steadily as the sound broke down into sobs and he leaned forward onto her shoulder. She wrapped a hand around his neck, burying her fingers in the nape of his hair as the other held the ice to his numb jaw steady.

“You’re allowed to make mistakes Disney Prince,” she whispered into his ears. “Family is allowed to make mistakes.”

He dug his hands into her back, chest heaving as he tried to calm down. He didn’t know how long she sat there with him, steady and soft as she waited for him. She took a deep breath, and waited

The door swung open with a loud crash and they both toppled forward into a tangle of limbs.

“Taken!” Richard shrieked, even as Victoria blinked at him from under Roman. Roman cursed as he tried to haul himself up, scrambling to reach his cape and clothes.

“How did he get in here?” Vic murmured, mostly to herself so Roman felt alright lunging for the small boy on the edge of tears in their room.

“What was taken?” he asked, bending down on one knee to meet Richard’s eyes better. “Are you safe?”

“Taken,” Richard shrieked again, his hands twisting in the edges of Roman’s cape. “Taken, taken, taken.”

Victoria cursed in the background, crashing against something as she rushed to gather their stuff together. Roman pressed down on his shoulders lightly and waited for the boy to take a shuddering breath, before asking again.

“What was taken, Richard?”

Amber eyes met his, wild and glistening with tears.

“Virgil,” he whispered, and Roman felt the blood roar in his ears. He was on his feet and out the door before he registered Richard’s cry and Victoria’s calls for him to come back. The sky was a dark blue above him, the stars only just disappearing, and maybe it was the time of night that meant he wasn’t stopped from rushing down the street, barefoot and still in his pajamas.

He tripped, stumbling, before righting himself and following his instincts. He planted his hands on his knees, panting as his head whipped up to scan the street they had been on only the day before. The small house remained the same except a dark van idled in front of it.

He caught his breath and he screamed, cape fluttering in the wind as the van started.

“VIRGIL!”

He could see the struggle through the back window, and he put on a burst of speed, reaching desperately for the door. Something crashed as it slipped through his fingers; the van picking up speed, and Roman looked back to the window to meet Virgil’s eyes before a hand dragged the other side back, deeper into the vehicle.

Roman tried to scream again, stumbling and falling to his knees with wide eyes as van turned around the corner, taking Virgil with it.

It had been right there.

 _He_ had been right there.

Now, Virgil was gone.

And for the second time that night, Roman broke down, curling into the street and not bothering to hold back his wails.


	9. Chapter 9

He couldn't breathe.

Virgil lashed out. His arm connected with someone behind him. The crunch radiated up his arm and the curse that followed it was drowned out by the beating of his heart. His foot caught on one of the seats in the back of the van. It wrenched violently as the van turned and Virgil didn't realize he was the one screaming until they shoved a rag unto his mouth to get him to stop.

He could remember now and he _didn't want to_. Didn't want to have the memories of warmth and care that he could never have again.

"Someone get him to sit still!"

Virgil snarled around his gag. His head felt light, and he couldn't feel his fingers anymore. What else was new. At least it meant he wouldn't feel it when he broke his fingers on their faces.

Virgil thrashed around harder, his head swimming. Roman had _called_ for him. Roman, strong, confident Roman—had sounded like he was on the edge of breaking; all of which meant that if these fuckers didn't let him go _right now,_ he was going to tear them apart because _Roman needed him._

He was the protector. _He had to do his job_.

A hand tightened on his wrist and Virgil whipped his head around to glare at the person responsible. The woman shivered, her grip loosening. It was all the opening he needed.

"Fuck, he got loose! Someone—"

Virgil clawed at the nearest person. His fingernails caught on skin and tore. The smell of iron flooded the van. A scream echoed his own hisses and snarls.

Virgil tried to lash out again, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness.

Fuck.

His chest was on fire, heaving as he tried to catch a single breath. He reached up to claw weakly at the rag in his mouth. The one that blocked what little air his hyperventilation could get him. He blinked spots out of his eyes, trying to struggle against the hands that gripped him anew.

Roman– Richard– Someone, someone needed him. It was the only thing that stuck with his scattered thoughts.

 _They're dead_ , Virgil thought muzzily. _I'm alone_

A heavy sigh echoed above his head and Virgil flinched back like a wounded animal at the hand that laid on his head. An older male pressed down in what would have been a paternal gesture if the man's companions hadn't been trussing Virgil up like a Sunday Dinner.

"Don't cry kid," the man said gruffly, "it won't be that bad. We're just gonna put you to work. Take what we're owed so to speak. You won't be alone for long."

Fuck. Virgil didn't like the sound of that, but he couldn't put his thoughts together long enough to figure out why. He blinked rapidly, his thrashing slowly dying down as his vision went black. The hand on his head disappeared, a thump echoing throughout the van.

“What the hell was that– ?! I can’t reach him anymore!”

He couldn't breathe– he couldn't _breathe_ – He was sitting here struggling to breathe and Roman either needed him or was dead and—

And Virgil wasn't sure that he wanted to breathe at that moment if that was the case.

* * *

Roman didn’t know he was shivering until a hand settled on his shoulder, almost burning from the heat. Someone else leaned against his side, a figure small enough that Roman safely assumed it was Richard. He almost wished they had time to be patient with him; to wait forever as he tried to piece together his broken fragments.

But they didn’t have that.

“Hey.” Victoria’s hands were infinitely gentle, tugging on him until he faced her. His eyes fluttered open to meet her worried ones.

Her thumb brushed against his cheek as she whispered, “We gotta get you warmed up and that leg looked at. Come on, Ro, up and at ‘em.”

“Virge, Vic,” he choked out as she struggled to haul him to his feet. Richard hovered at his other side, hands flitting about but never quite touching. Roman leaned heavily against Victoria’s shoulder, and tried to swipe at the tears that still managed to escape from his eyes. “He was– Vic, he was—”

“Shooosh,” Victoria said softly, before she turned to Richard. “Is that house safe?”

Richard’s head nodded rapidly, and he tangled his fingers into Roman’s cape as he attempted to drag them towards it. Roman gave him an exhausted grin, the expression pulling painful on the bruise on his jaw. Victoria stumbled under his weight and slowly, the three of them made their way to the front door. The pastel white taunted him, and Roman turned to bury his head in Victoria’s hair as Richard knocked confidently.

Everything about him ached, and it was only now with his head turned downwards did he notice the blood dripping down his leg. A good section of it had dried on his calf, and while it wasn’t the worst Roman had ever had, the jagged tear just below his knee stung with failure.

He had been _so close_.

A quiet shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door, and Roman felt Victoria tense under his arm. Richard bounced on the balls of his feet, and Roman wondered if it was from excitement or nerves. Either way, something in him couldn’t wait to see who lived in the strange house that Virgil apparently visited.

“Gi-gi?” A frail voice asked as the door swung open, and Roman blinked for a long moment, trying to process what he saw.

Milky white eyes drifted around the porch before lighting up as they landed on Roman.

“Gi-gi!” The old woman cried and patted him on the arm lightly before ushering them all inside and shutting the door behind her. “You should have told us if you were going to visit again so soon! Rodger!” She called out weakly, “Rodger! Guess who came to visit again!”

“Gi….gi?” Roman murmured in confusion, before Victoria next to him snickered. He blinked at her.

“Virgil,” Richard muttered back, patting his arm gently. “Nickname.”

“Oh,” Roman said dully as the old woman puttered towards a set of stairs.

“Oh, you dears don’t need to stand there,” she said kindly and gestured towards a soft room with floral patterned couches. “Please, take a seat! Any friend of Gi-gi’s is a friend of ours.”

Victoria steered Roman towards one of the chairs and knelt down to roll up his pants. He hissed as it passed over the cut and Victoria pursed her lips. She brought her fingers up to prod gently at the swollen skin around it, and her eyes darkened.

“It doesn’t look good that’s for sure,” she told him, “You may have twisted something, but you’re in enough shock right now that I don’t think you can tell me for sure. Or I could be completely wrong. This isn’t the sort of Med I normally took.”

Roman snorted dryly, tipping back to let his head rest against the chair.

“So,” Victoria said dryly, and flicking his uninjured leg lightly, “let me know when the Epic Rescue Plan comes to you. I want to know how much screaming I’ll be doing in the future.”

“Will it matter?” Roman mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes.

He wheezed, doubling over as Victoria’s hand collided with his stomach, just hard enough to sting but no more.

“Roman Sanderson,” she growled, “you did not just say that. You have dragged both our asses half way across the country, discovered magic, and gave up everything you ever worked for in order to chase after your brother.” Her eyes softened and she leaned forward to cup his face in her hands. “You are nowhere near beaten, not in this lifetime.”

She pressed a kiss to his forehead, ignoring his wide eyes. “Now, you don your cape, and come up with one of your dazzling plans while I see if this lovely couple has something for your leg.”

Roman thought his heart would beat out of his chest as he watched Victoria hurry out of the room, calling out to the older woman as she did so. He turned as the hair on his neck prickled and met Richard’s eyes.

The child pointed to his chest and said forcefully, “Help.”

He paused, “Bait.”

Roman thought his eyes couldn’t go any wider as he shook his head and heaved himself up to kneel next to the child once more. He sent a mental apology to the probably-a-witch for the new bloodstain and looked Richard in the eye.

“You’ve done plenty Rich Black,” he said softly. “You came to get us.” He took a deep breath, and dug as deep as he could, dragging up more energy than he ever thought he could. “We’ll get him back. I promise. I’m _never_ giving up on him, alright?”

Falling was simply a chance to grow new wings.

He pulled out a grin and held his fist out for the kid to bump, “A prince has to take care of his subjects after all.”

Richard giggled, light and brief before smothering the sound with his hands. His face flushed as Roman’s grin grew and he whispered.

“Not true.”

He bumped his fist against Roman’s and flung himself forwards, topping the two of them backwards with his momentum. He wrapped his arms gently around the sobbing child, glancing up to Victoria watching them softly. He closed his eyes to drudge up the image of Virgil’s terrified eyes and reminded himself.

 _Do it for them_.

He clenched his jaw and nodded, his jaw brushing against Richard’s head.

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do.”

* * *

Roman whistled as he walked down the street, the bag of groceries in his hand swinging in time with his music. Rodger and Patricia had been sweet enough to let them stay at their house for the last couple of days, though Roman hadn’t quite gotten them to stop thinking he was Virgil yet.

But he could ignore the stabbing pain that went through his chest whenever they did that, in exchange of Richard’s quick shy grins and Victoria’s laughter.

“ _Just around the riverbend_ ,” he sung softly, a pep in his step. All they needed to do was finish up the Epic Rescue Plan, and the they’d finally be able _do_ something about what had happened to Virgil. “ _I look once more, just around the riverbend—_ ”

His voice caught as his eyes skittered past a familiar style of suit. He tried to keep his breathing steady as a second suit joined the first and the crowd started to thin out. His hold on the bags tightened; his pace increasing as he tried to shake them off of his tail.

_Not safe._

Richard had been right, but Roman had wanted to bask in the feeling of Virgil’s kinda-sorta home; wanted to know what life his family had been living. He’d been stupid, and put his selfishness above safety again.

They weren’t ready for this.

His hand fumbled as he dialed Vic’s number and waited with bated breath as the tone rang. He took a deep breath, the suits locked in the corner of his eyes as it finally connected.

“Yo, yo, yo what time is it?” Victoria greeted.

“Showtime,” Roman replied, a smile twitching upwards at the reference. “But I just wanted to check and see if I got everything. Make sure it’s–”

He gulped, watching the suits gain on him.

“Just making sure that everything is ready.”

Silence met his words, and Roman felt his weak smile grow as he listened to her shuffle paper rapidly.

“It’s way too early Ro, but I think we can make it work if you want. We’ll be skating by on several parts and just—”

She took a deep breath, “Be careful.”

“Always, Vic-ked,” he said softly, and hung up. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and braced himself, suspecting that he wasn’t going to enjoy the next part of his day.

The footsteps behind him picked up speed and Roman closed his eyes, dredging up old memories of his quests through Thomas’s mind. He felt weak compared to then, but he at least had the general idea of what to do.

A hand barely had time to brush against his shoulder before he was moving, the bag in his hand swinging up into the face of his pursuer.

He let go as the cartoon of eggs broke, and booked it as fast as he could down the alley. The squeal of tires in front of him had him skidding to a stop and frantically looking for a different direction to go. He spun around, chest heaving as he watched the three agents that had been tailing him approach slowly.

“Look, kid,” one of the females said softly, “this isn’t personal. Just come with us, and no one has to get hurt.”

“Go fuck yourself,” he spat out, dropping into a stance that felt lopsided without his sword in hand. His left foot slipped back to steady himself and he flicked a hand at them, fire in his eyes. “You’re going to have to take me like you took Virgil.”

He bared his teeth.

“With a fight.”

The suit to his left moved first, and Roman ducked under his grab, already feeling his muscles protest the movement. Godmother, he needed to get back into shape no matter how much he hated exercise. He jerked his knee up, connecting with his assailants gut. He surged forward. His palm met with the man’s nose in a sharp crack and the scent of iron burst as the bone did.

A hand clamped around his arm, and Roman spun, aiming for the woman’s kidneys. His leg fell short, unable to stretch that far and he cursed as he overbalanced. He wobbled dangerously, and the last suit took advantage of his hesitance. Roman screamed as his arm as bent behind his back and he thrashed in their hold, trying to find purchase as they dragged him backwards.

His ankles scrapped against the ground, and he swore that he managed to split one of their lip by throwing his head back.

“Kid,” the woman tried to reason.

“Oh give it up Rose, he’s not going to listen to us,” the other sighed.

“Damn right,” Roman spat out, and wheezed as the grip on his arm tightened. Cool metal slid over his wrist and he tripped backwards as they shoved him into the back of the van. The other end of the handcuffs clicked as the man set it into place and Roman jerked forwards towards them. Rose flinched back and Roman snickered darkly.

“Why should I listen to kidnappers?” he spat out.

Rose wrung her hands, looking back between the man—who shook his head—and Roman. Her eyes dropped from Roman’s glare and darkness closed around him as they shut the back doors.

Finally alone, Roman leaned back with a groan and spun his wrist around lightly. He needed to stretch it, but he couldn’t get enough movement from where he was tied.

He gritted his teeth as the van rumbled to life beneath him, and the vibrations made their way down his arm. He jerked against the chain one last time before attempting to find the most comfortable position to sit in.

The phone in his pocket was a lead weight and he let out a slow breath.

Step one complete.

* * *

Vic swallowed heavily, staring down at her phone while it blared the dial tone at her. It creaked under her grip, and Victoria dropped it trying to shake her hands out. Whoops, she hadn't meant to do that.

A small hand reached down and offered it back to her carefully.

She sighed and accepted it from Richard. The kid stared at her for a long moment, looking for _something_ in her eyes.

"Save them," he said.

"Yeah," she agreed, running a hand over the case of her phone.

It had been a gift from Roman on her eighteenth birthday. The case, not the phone; she didn't think he could afford something like that. But she had made sure that it fit every model of phone she got after that. Which wasn't a lot. but still.

Richard's eyes on her made her skin crawl, and Vic felt her shoulders hunch up defensively. God, he was twelve and as suspicious as he was, couldn't she pull her head out of her ass long enough to treat him will a little goddamn respect? Apparently not.

"We should start tracking his phone," she said finally. "Let–" She breathed heavily through her nose– "Let Patricia and Rodger know we're on our way and that the groceries aren't going to be arriving. Or something."

The plan was laid right out in front of her. Gone over meticulously by all three of them, but the idea of it still made her feel a little sick to her stomach.

This was the moment everything would start to go downhill.

Vic blinked rapidly at the name that stood out in stark contrast to everything else on the page.

_Virgil._

The one Roman really wanted.

She shoved back the thought that even their names were pretty close. If she started to wonder if Roman latched on to her because she reminded him of Virgil, she would go insane. Or go skydiving without a parachute. Either way, she couldn't do either of those right now.

Because regardless of what Roman thought of her, she adored him.

Which meant helping him get his brother out through a ridiculous, rather brilliant, harebrained scheme of breaking into a facility that they didn't even know the location of.

Richard didn't reach out for her, which she could understand. She didn't trust him either. She almost wanted to skip over talking to the old couple that lived her as well. Jasmine was a safe place; something she recognized and knew. And wasn't that hilarious? She could accept magic at the drop of a hat, but new people still made her snappish.

"Let's go," she muttered, shoving all the papers under her arm. "Grab Roman's cape would you?"

Richard scrambled to grab the cloth as she stalked out of the room without another word. She glanced around the kitchen, hoping that Patricia wouldn't be there and she wouldn't have to talk to the older woman.

"Oh! Leaving so soon dear?"

No such luck. Vic bit the bottom of her lip.

"Yeah," she said shortly. She shifted uneasily. "Roman needs us to pick him up. Not sure when we'll be back. Don't wait for us."

God, it was so much harder to be friendly when she needed to be without Roman around. She adjusted the papers under her arm awkwardly as Patricia beamed at her.

The old lady set the spoon she had been stirring something with down, and wiped her hands off with a rag.

"Alrighty then dears, but you be careful, you hear? I don't want you coming back with even more bumps and bruises. We're starting to run out of bandages."

Victoria nodded again.

"And you know where to pick Gi-gi and his brother up from?" Patricia asked, something sharper than Vic was comfortable with in her eyes.

"Yeah," Victoria replied, hoping to leave it at just that.

"Tracker," Richard added from her right and she jumped at his sudden interjection. Patricia's eyes softened at the sight of the child and Vic wanted to scream. There was something up with this kid and no one else seemed to see it.

Richard glanced in her direction a frown gracing his face for half a second, there and gone again, like the wind. Or Vic's sanity.

“It’s not a bug or anything like that,” Vic explained, prompted by the way Patricia’s mouth turned downwards. “Roman’s just got location turned on for one of the apps on his phone. Which means we can use mine–” She waved it in the air helpfully– “to know exactly where he is.”

“Find them,” Richard added on.

“Well aren’t you dears clever?” Patricia said brightly. “I’m not sure I get it but you kids have fun!”

“Yeah,” Vic muttered under her breath, inching towards the door. “Fun, that’s what we’ll have.”

“Don’t know,” the kid muttered, almost to himself as it swung closed behind them. Vic clenched her jaw. Richard stepped closer to her, and it took everything she had not to take a step away from him. His hand came up and hovered just above her heart. Something pained crossed his eyes, looking up to search her own.

"You don't know," he repeated.

"Don't know what?" Vic asked, frustration coloring her words. "There's a lot I don't know. You don't have to rub it in like that."

Richard hesitated. His hand dropped and he stepped closer to her again; only this time, it felt less like he was inspecting her and more like he was finally dropping his guard around her. Not fully, but some.

"You," he said quietly.

"Oh," she said dully. "Yeah, I could have told you that. What do any of us know about ourselves? I'm just a speck of nothing– wait no, a mote of dust in a storm to large for me to handle. Won't see me getting off this ride alone though."

Richard pressed a hand to his mouth, holding back a soft giggle. Victoria's mouth twitched upwards at the action.

"I don't trust you kid, but that doesn't make you bad. At least, I hope so." She paused in front of Jasmine. She didn't have to crouch to reach his level, which goddamn, was she really that short?

No, focus, she could focus.

"I don't like secrets that's all,” she said. “Nothing against you, kid."

Richard looked at her with wide eyes as he nodded.

"Rescue," he said softly, and Vic blew a bang out of her eyes.

"Yeah, right.” She tugged Jasmine’s door open. “Come on, let's go get the morons that would probably be dead without us."

Victoria gestured for Richard to get inside. They didn't have time to dawdle, no matter how much Vic was convinced that this was the first step to her doom. Richard paused at the door, hand snapping out to grip hers.

He squeezed lightly, eyes steady and determined.

"It's going to be alright," he whispered.

Victoria laughed, the sound breathy and disbelieving.

"If you say so kid, if you say so."


	10. Chapter 10

Roman didn’t bother to open his eyes as light filled the strange compartment in the back of the van once more.

“Come on brat,” the man grunted. “It’ll be easier if you don’t fight us on the way.”

Roman hummed to himself, and made no move to follow their directions. He wondered if Patton had a point about the whole non-violent protesting. It could certainly be more entertaining, even if it felt less honorable. He tapped a rhythm out on his leg as the silence stretched and grinned to himself at the frustrated noise the man made.

“Kyle,” Rose said softly, “he's got a right to be angry—”

“Oh shut up,” Kyle growled, and Roman opened his eyes to see them glaring at each other for a brief moment. Rose looked down and away and Roman barely had time to brace himself before the back of Kyle’s hand meet his cheek. His neck snapped to the side and Roman focused on his breath as the man snarled.

“We gotta right to be angry too.”

Rose sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something that Roman didn’t catch.

“Just–” she said through gritted teeth– “just let’s get him with the other one alright?”

Roman licked his lips, tasting salt that he wasn’t sure was sweat or blood until the extra iron tang hit the back of his throat. Blood it was, lovely.

Kyle hauled him up roughly and unlocked the handcuffs. He jerked Roman’s arms behind his back and reapplied them, before shoving him forwards. Roman focused as best he could, trying to focus through the ringing in his ears as they marched him through the almost warehouse.

The moment that they stepped through the door, he had to bite back a gasp, because _godmother_ , Logan would have been dropping a Doctor Who reference then and there. The indoors gleaned in ways that they outside could never manage and Roman could have sworn there hadn’t been a second floor, but they were tugging him past a set of stairs anyways.

They paused outside a door without any handles and Kyle hesitated.

“You really think it’s a good idea to put them together?” he asked.

Rose shrugged. “Boss’ orders.”

Kyle grumbled something before tracing what Roman assumed to be a run along the metal of the door. The F-shaped rune glowed and Roman couldn’t help his gasp as the door slid open on its own. He stumbled as they shoved him in and he whirled on his heels as the door ground shut behind him.

“Well, a good day to you too!” He yelled back, and rocked back on his heels.

Something shifted behind him, and his breath caught. He was the confident one, but in that moment nothing felt certain. What if he thought wrong, what if this wasn’t who he thought it was? What if Virgil hated him? What if Virgil didn’t remember? What if—

“I can hear you thinking from here,” the voice was dry and exhausted, but it wrapped around his chest and Roman’s body shook with a single sob before he stopped himself.

“Well of course you can,” he said lightly, ( _fake fake fake_ ) ignoring the way that his fellow cellmate would most certainly see his hands shaking. “My thought processes are perfect and need to be shared! My princliness is simply so out of this world that—”

“Roman.”

It was the waver in Virgil’s voice that did it and Roman took a deep breath, turning smoothly on his heel. He forced a grin on his face, and would have thrown his hands out if they weren’t cuffed behind his back.

“The one and only…” His words died off as he got a good look at the other side, eyes widening.

Virgil gave him a single tired wave from against the wall, black eye gleaming even in the low light. His clothes ( _too ragged, too worn down; even Roman had better_ ) hung off of his frame and Roman could have sworn he caught sight of a scar before Virgil tugged the collar of his shirt up a little higher.

Virgil’s eyes were just as feverishly bright as they raked over his form, and Roman straightened as best he could. The anxious side’s emotions swirled in his eyes, too dark for Roman to pick them all up.

“Oh fuck,” Virgil breathed. “Seriously what the fuck, you look like they put you through a meat grinder, Princey.”

Roman let out an offended noise, somehow deliriously happy at the insult.

“Excuse you,” he wheezed, “I always look perfect. My beauty cannot be tarnished by something as simple as a kidnapping! If _anything,_ my injuries only highlight the natural contours of my jawline, so how dare—”

He snapped his jaw shut as Virgil started to drag himself up against the wall, his legs shaking the entire way. Roman strode over—less than three steps, the cell was tiny—and cursed the fact that he was handcuffed. At most, he could offer his shoulder for support; only instead of taking it Virgil reached out and Roman yelped as he was yanked forwards into Virgil’s arms.

Virgil trembled, burying his head into Roman’s shoulder. Roman felt himself melt into the hold, pounds of stress dropping from his shoulders. Something clicked and Roman buried his nose into Virgil’s hair, pressing up against him desperately as if they could absorb each other through contact alone.

Maybe they’d go back to being Thomas and this whole thing would just be a bad dream.

Virgil’s fingers dug weakly into his back, and Roman could pick out a simple repeated mantra, mumbled into his shoulder.

“You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re _alive_.”

Roman’s breath hitched and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“You’re _real_ ,” he allowed himself to murmur, just once before he pressed his lips to Virgil’s head, waiting for the other side to calm down. Godmother, kidnapping or not, Roman was ready to do cartwheels for the next week. He felt a grin creep up his face and he wished that he could pick Virgil up and present him to the world with a scream, a twirl, serenade him until the other felt comfortable.

“Wh-whatever y-you’re thinking,” Virgil hiccuped into his shoulder. “No, just no.”

“Roman, yes,” he crowed, giddiness seeping into his voice.

“Roman, _no_ ,” Virgil’s voice was muffled by Roman’s shoulder, but Roman could feel his trembling ease.

As Virgil finally pulled back he had to bite back a whine; he knew it was ridiculous but it felt like Virgil would disappear again the moment they were apart. Virgil scrubbed at his face, taking a shuddering breath before blurting out.

“I’m sorry.”

“Pfffft,” Roman shrugged the apology off, turning to sink down against the wall. It scraped against his bruises, but he ignored it, preferring the way that Virgil sank down next to him, pressing their shoulders together. “I deserved that sock to the jaw, which of course, I handled masterfully like the prince I am.”

“You cried,” Virgil scoffed, a weak smirk curling up his face.

“I _did not_ ,” Roman shrieked, and winced as Virgil slugged his shoulder.

“You totally did, but that’s not what I meant,” Virgil replied, his face falling. He looked away, legs curling up towards his chest and Roman purposefully leaned against him even more. Maybe he’d be a grounding presence for once. “And you know it.”

Roman hummed, and brought his own legs up so that he could attempt to tangle them with Virgil’s. He rolled his eyes at the glare that Virgil sent him, and only shuffled closer every time that the other tried to shift away.

“I’m afraid that I really don’t,” Roman said softly, leaning his head back. “From my point of view you have nothing to be sorry for.”

The laugh that slipped out from Virgil’s mouth was dry and sharp.

“I dragged you into this. They never would have found you if you didn’t come here. Maybe you never would have gotten caught; maybe you would be, I dunno, living it up in the city somewhere,” Virgil muttered, digging his hands into knees. “But goddammit, I thought you’d at least be smart enough not to get caught after seeing the tail end of mine.”

“Wellll I mean...” Roman replied, drawing his vowels out and glancing up at the ceiling. Virgil’s eyes darkened as his head turned slowly to look at him, and Roman whistled innocently to himself.

“You didn’t,” Virgil growled.

“I have _back up_ ,” Roman scoffed, “There’s a _plan_. It’s a great plan, I love my plan.”

“A plan,” Virgil said slowly, “That started with you getting _caught by the people you should be trying to avoid_.”

Roman rolled his eyes.

“A true hero can escape from any bonds he is thrown into!” Roman barreled on before Virgil could object even more. “I wasn’t about to just leave you behind! The only other option to track you down would have been to use the ten year old. At least I think he’s ten; I haven’t actually asked. And Patton would have killed me for that! It wouldn’t have been right!”

Roman took a deep breath, pasting on a grin. “And so! Your hero has arrived to rescue you from the lair of the Evil Organization that would dare get in the way of our reunion.”

“Oh my god,” Virgil buried his head in his hands, and Roman spared a moment to be jealous that he could even do that. His arms were starting to cramp already. “You’re hopeless. You’re going to die and I’m going to be stuck here watching it. If we’re lucky, I’ll die first. Do you even bother to, I dunno, tell your back up about this plan?”

“Of course I did!” Virgil turned expectant eyes to him and Roman relented, “Victoria and Richard were somewhat helpful in pointing out the _very few_ flaws in the idea.”

Virgil froze next to him and Roman blinked.

“Richard,” Virgil said in disbelief, “The twelve year old Richard? That Richard? _A child helped plan this Roman?!_ ”

Roman rolled his eyes again, “It wasn’t just him Virgil calm down. I came up with most of it, and Victoria checked it for how realistic it would be to pull off. We are infinitely prepared for whatever could happen.”

“Tell me Victoria is like, Logan 2.0,” Virgil begged. “A genius of the highest caliber; someone who keeps you grounded.”

“Well of course! Victoria _is_ the first person to recognize my perfection so…” He trailed off as Virgil groaned. Roman rolled his eyes.  “Oh come on! I come up with _marvelous_ ideas, Monster Mash!”

“We’re gonna die,” Virgil moaned. “They’re going to pull us apart to see how we tick and no one will ever know what happened to us. Everything will crash and burn. We’re never going to see the others.”

Roman sighed, leaning in against Virgil and struggling to set aside his pride and excitement to focus on the other. Virgil’s breath hitched and Roman grumbled under his breath about not being able to properly hug him. The lack of response made his stomach drop and he nudged Virgil lightly.

“Come on Virge,” he coaxed gently, “trust me on this. We’re going to get out of here. You can get Vic to yell at me with you for pulling this off. You’re going to love her and hate her at the same time I promise. We’ll go find Patton and Logan, then you and the nerd can yell at me some more. It won’t change the fact that I was a hero, so.”

He wanted to tug Virgil closer to himself, but he settled for leaning his head against Virgil’s.

“It’s going to be alright. I promise.”

* * *

**_Roman wrapped his arms around Virgil as soon as it registered where they were. He felt Virgil’s hand dig into his back once more and Roman squeezed back as hard as he could. They stumbled over and crashed into Thomas’s couch, the soft cushions familiar enough that he felt Virgil tremble._ **

**_“What if they’re not– What if—”_ **

**_“They are,” Roman insisted, hooking his chin over Virgil’s head. Here he felt almost like things were normal, that they were alright. His voice grew urgent, hoping that the other would understand. “I’ve seen them Virge! Here! But not really? Dreams are weird and I’m not quite wired to understand them on this level anymore.”_ **

**_Virgil shifted, shuffling until he sat between Roman’s legs, fingers tangled in his shirt with a grip so tight that it pulled at Roman’s skin._ **

**_“Are–” He hesitated– “Are they alright?”_ **

**_Roman tightened his grip on him, closing his eyes and feeling the room shift as he tried to dredge up the old memories of the dreams that had drifted at the edge of his consciousness. Virgil stiffened beneath him, and Roman hunched his shoulders inwards, waiting for the words of reproval. For Virgil to ask why he hadn’t gone after the others first._ **

**_How he could have chosen any of them over the rest._ **

**_“God, Logan, mood,” he heard muttered instead, and he couldn’t help the hysterical giggle that escaped from his lips._ **

**_“We're going to find them,” Roman murmured. “_ ** **Together** ** _.”_ **

**_Virgil leaned back into his chest and nodded, whispering back._ **

**_“Together.”_ **

* * *

Victoria's knees jiggled as they stared at the warehouse just down the block from them. She wasn't alone in her nerves; Richard gripped Roman's cape tight enough that Vic almost thought he was going to tear the cloth.

"Okay." She let out a breath. "Okay, we just have to get inside and find them right? Easy. They're not expecting us, we can go invisible. Just– Just get under the cape and wander around just like Roman said. Simple. Easy. We can do this."

"Not," Richard groaned.

"Hey, hey, hey, no. I need you to be with me on this kid," Vic protested. "Repeat after me: it's possible"

"No."

"God, you're a little shit," Vic told him, and earned a weak smirk in return.

Richard twisted the cap in his hands again, eyeing the warehouse with an even darker look than she leveled at it.

"It's not that large—" Victoria started weakly.

"No," Richard interrupted. "Large. Bigger inside."

"Oh so now we're throwing Doctor Who into this now too," Victoria said dryly. "Sure why not. Let me know when the werewolves and fairies are going to show up. I want to get my silver and iron early. I hear Target has a sale on crosses."

"Vampires." Richard eyed her. Judgmentally.

"I know that– We're just stalling now aren't we?"

"Yup."

"Fuck. Alrighty then."

She took a deep breath and threw her door open, climbing out of the car. It wasn't a huge step but getting moving meant that she couldn't just sit in the car forever. She shuffled and narrowed her eyes at the warehouse. She couldn't make out any vans or cars, meaning that they must have taken Roman around the back.

Or they were invisible. Who knew. Not her, that's for sure.

Richard slipped a hand into hers, and startled Vic. She looked down at him.

"Hey," she said softly. "Like you said kid, it's going to be alright. It's gotta be. or I think Roman will do something even more drastic and I love him, you know I do, but I don't think it's possible to get even more Extra than planning your own kidnapping and not end in death. Please, no death. So we gotta make it work here and now."

Richard blinked at her.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, inching towards the building. "You haven't seen the way that he's escalated before. He doesn't take things one step at a time. He leaps over the entire staircase and wonders why he broke a leg. Moron."

"Afraid." Richard whispered, almost tripping over her legs from how close he was standing to her. They walked closer to the gaping maw of death that was the warehouse before them; Vic wondered if maybe there was a 'Beware' sign somewhere that would complete the image. Or even 'Evil Villain Lair here!'

God, some part of her hoped so. That would be _perfect_.

"You and me both," she muttered, glancing down at Richard before taking a deep breath. "There. See it?"

She pointed towards a side door, just visible from where they were standing. A woman stood at the entrance, leaning back against it. Her suit was rumpled and every inch of her screamed indifference as she took a slow drag from the cigarette in her mouth.

"We can wait until she goes back inside," Vic whispered. "Slip in after her while the door is open. Then it's just a matter of finding our boys."

Victoria took a deep breath.

 _Just think like Roman,_ she told herself, and threw her shoulders back. She tilted her chin up, flipped her hair despite it not really being long enough for that action, and took the cape from Richard’s hands. She swirled it around them. The cloth did it’s magic thing, settling around them.

Richard huddled even closer to her side, gripping at her shirt. Once Vic was confident that they were out of sight, she strode forward. Richard kept as close to her as he could, to the point of almost tripping over her feet as they approached the door.

Vic bit down on her lip the closer they got, trying to ignore the way that Richard’s breath hitched.

They were going to this. They could do this.

She thought that up until the moment that Richard’s foot finally caught on her heel and they both went tumbling forward.

“Fuck!”

Her hands slammed into the concret in front of them. She hissed at the sting and—

_Wait._

“Well, what have we here?” The mage at the door asked and Victoria squeaked at the look in her eye. “A pair of young teleporters. Don’t you know that this is private property– wait.” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Are you who I think you are? You both—”

She took a step towards them. Victoria threw her hand out as she scrambled to her knees, trying to place herself between the mage and Richard. Her heart pounded in her ears. Of course she had ruined it right from the start.

Richard let out a shriek as the woman took another step forward and flung his hand out.

“Back!” the kid screamed.

Victoria’s ears rung from the explosion that echoed around them. Her eyes widened as the woman flew back, slamming into the door and tumbling even farther as it almost _shattered_ under the force of whatever the hell Richard had done.

“There is _no way in hell_ that they didn’t hear that,” Vic breathed, her ears popping and the alarms from the building starting to wail in front of them. Richard shrunk in on himself, and fuck, they didn’t have time for guilt now.

“Okay–” She swallowed– “new plan. You get to do that. A lot. Away from me. As distraction. I’ll look for the boys. Take the cape. Be loud, be bright, be distracting.”

She shoved the cape at Richard, and put her hands on Richard’s shoulders.

“Can you do that?” He hesitated, and she shook him, just enough to snap his attention to her. Her entire body thrummed with the need to get to her best friend. She had to make sure that Roman got out of there. “Richard we don’t have time. _Can you do that_?”

He nodded, fingers turning white as he gripped the cape and pointed his fingers again. The building shook as a wall crumbled under whatever he was doing and then Richard was racing off deeper into the facility. Vic watched his retreating back for a long moment.

She wondered if his pale, thin-lipped face already streaked with grime would ever be something she could forget.

She shook her head of the thought and dove into the warehouse herself.

Her feet pounded against the metal of the hallways and Victoria cursed Richard for being right. The whole place was huge despite what it looked like, for every hallway she ran through it seemed like there were three more to turn into.  
  
Her eyes darted over the doors she passed, looking for a clue, for a map; anything that could help her find where they had put Roman and Virgil.

Her chest heaved, and every muscle in her legs protested running anymore. She gritted her teeth and took off along the farthest left hallway, the one that lead deeper into the facility.

She took the next corner at a sprint, passing by a mage as she raced past. From the corner of her eye, the light caught the man’s face, his eyes reflecting almost a yellow color.

She skid to a stop, whirling on her heels and bringing her gloved hands up. The nails gleamed in the low light, ready for a fight.

But Vic blinked as she stared at the empty hallways.

She could have sworn—

She rolled her shoulders, and shook off the sudden chills that ran down her spine. She had to hurry. Victoria didn’t have time for mirages. She spun on her heels and took off at a dead sprint once more.


	11. Chapter 11

“We can’t play eye spy, Princey,” Virgil said dryly. “There’s nothing to see.”

“You’re just not trying hard enough,” Roman insisted, “You just have to be creative. Virge, look, see right there–” He nodded towards a stain on the far wall– “that is a valiant knight fighting to free his kingdom from a curse and reunite with his prince!”

“Are you trying to tell me something Ro?” Virgil sighed.

“What?” Roman blinked at him, genuinely bewildered. “Tell you what? I’m just trying to kill some time.”

“Yeah, sure,” Virgil agreed, his eyes drifting away and fingers tapping at his arm. The steady sound grated on Roman’s nerves and he clenched his jaw. Air hissed from between his teeth and Virgil’s eyes darted back towards him.

“It’s going to be fine,” Roman insisted, and Virgil huffed.

“Yeah, sure,” he repeated, eyes darting for the door. Roman rolled his eyes and nudged his shoulder. The movement made his aching arms tingle and he winced at the feeling.

“They’re amazing, talented, people. Of course, it all would be more assured if I were the one breaking in, but sacrifices must be made-—

Virgil shushed him and Roman blinked, offence slipping through his mouth before Virgil made a frantic motion for him to shut up. The actor pressed his lips closed and leaned forward to try and catch what Virgil had.

After a handful of heartbeats, Roman could hear it. Footsteps stormed towards their room, and then faded again, heading deeper into the facility. There was beat, and as Roman opened his mouth to question it, an ear piercing shriek rent the air. They both flinched, and Roman bit back a hiss as he jostled his injuries.

He could feel Virgil’s glare drill into the side of his head and Roman fought a scowl.

“It may not be them!” he protested. “Who knows what goes on in this place. They were going to be silent as the grave. True master ninjas. Invisible and as skilled as the jedi before them. Spiders crawling along the shadows—”

“I have no idea what you’re saying anymore,” Virgil muttered and let his head fall back against the wall, his eyes narrowed and fixed on the door. “But something tells me that they haven’t managed to follow your ‘perfect’ plan to the letter.”

Roman flailed, or at least he tried seeing as his arms were stuck behind his back, and sputtered. He nudged at his fellow side angrily, and made to stand up. He had full faith that Victoria and Richard were doing what they were supposed to and that they needed to be ready for their Epic Escape. He made it to his feet and was about to nag Virgil into joining him when the whole facility shuddered.

Roman’s shoulder slammed into the wall and he stumbled, almost tipping forward without his arms to balance himself before Virgil’s hand dragged him upright.

“What in Apollo’s sun was that?” Roman shouted.

“You don’t know?!” Virgil shrieked back, the hand on his arm tightening into a bruising grip. “I thought it was part of your plan!”

“The _Plan_ ,” Roman said hysterically, “had more sneaking than anything else. I _do_ know how to keep a low profile Virgil!”

The whole building rocked again, and they shot startled looks at each other.

“Oh my god,” Virgil breathed. “We’re gonna die.”

“No we’re not,” Roman said through grit teeth. “Not here at least. Come on we can—”

The door slid open, and they both stiffened. Roman tried to stand between Virgil and whoever was approaching them while Virgil attempted the same. They jostled for the position, elbows hitting each other as the figure in the doorway stared at them.

“Wow.” Victoria’s voice said dryly, her eyes wide and face pale. “I didn’t know it was possible for two people to be the same sort of idiot.”

Vic’s hands snapped out to snag both of their arms. “Come on, come on, come on. We’ve got like thirty seconds before we need to book it.”

“What–?” Roman sputtered out.

“Later,” she shouted, and dragged the two of them behind her into a stumbling run. Roman stumbled, struggling to follow her through the labyrinths of rooms, the alarm and an ominous rumbling echoing in his ears.

Shouting came from ahead, and Victoria cursed, low and vicious under her breath, before waving them both into the nearest room. The noise died slightly as the door slid shut and Victoria bent over, gasping for breath.

Virgil stared at Victoria with wide eyes that matched hers, his hand reaching out to dig into Roman’s arm once more.

“What. The hell. Was that.”

“We–” Victoria sucked in a deep breath and tried again– “We ran into some problems getting in. Richard may have panicked, he did– did something I don’t know what, but the door was blown wide open because of it. And so was our plan.

She straightened and grimaced as she glanced them both over.

“I used these–” She waggled her glove covered hands– “to find where you guys were, and left the cape with Richard. He’s been causing the lovely explosion of a distraction, though I think we need someone to calm him down.”

The building rocked again, and she tilted her head, hands shaking.

“Preferably before they catch him or the warehouse comes down around us. Either or, you know?”

“HOW,” Virgil shrieked, “are you so calm?!”

Victoria shot him a pair of finger guns. “Hard to panic when you feel nothing.”

Roman groaned, burying his head in his hands, “Victoria, _no_.”

“Vic, yes,” she parroted back at him, and reached up to waggle her fingers at him. “Now let me get you outta those so that you can valiantly lead us to victory and escape.”

Roman whirled on his heel, presenting his handcuffed wrists to his best friend as he ignored the look that Virgil was giving the both of them. The metal clinked softly and he felt the cool air against his inflamed skin. His arms shot out and he wrapped one around each of his friends, dragging them close.

Virgil squawked, already wriggling against the hold a contrast to Victoria’s cackle.

“Come on Lover Boy,” she said gently, giving him a quick squeeze back before slipping out of his hold. “The kid needs back up.”

“How...” Virgil started before trailing off as Victoria turned to stare at him. He coughed, and Roman flicked his eyes between the two of them, hold tightening imperceptibly. Virgil’s eyes meet his for a heartbeat. His head tilted and his jaw clenched. Virgil met Vic’s stare and repeated, “How panicked is he?”

“There’s definitely a snake in his boot,” Victoria teased. Her lips twitched upwards, her face soft underneath how pale it was. “He really cares about you, that Richard kid. Roman should be jealous; he got the friend that tosses him into a snake pit instead.”

Roman barked a laugh, Virgil flinched underneath his arm, stalling the cackle he wanted to let out. He dragged the other side towards the door, Victoria’s grin wild and dangerous as she dogged his heel.

“I could survive a snake pit and you know it,” he whispered as they slipped out the door.

“I’d like to see you try,” Victoria shot back, inching her way along the wall. Her head ducked around the corner and she waved at them to follow as they darted to the next hallway.

“Perhaps,” Virgil hissed at them both, “you two morons could _shut up_ while we sneak around?!”

Roman rolled his eyes but fell silent. The silence ate at him, not even their footsteps making something for him to concentrate on and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Guys,” he hissed, and almost preened at the two heads that swiveled to look at him immediately. “It’s _quiet_.”

Victoria blinked at him, before her mouth dropped into an ‘o’ of understanding. Her hand reached out and whacked Virgil in the arm, over and over again, until the other side scowled moving away from her.

“Richard,” she said, her eyes wide. “What happened to _Richard?”_

Virgil sucked in a sharp breath, and Roman reached out, desperate to keep him from panicking.

“Run,” he breathed, and he took off without a thought.

Victoria fell into step beside him, and Roman felt a burst of affection for the woman that sided with him. Virgil took a half beat longer, taking Roman’s left.

“This way,” Victoria said, taking a sharp turn, her eyes racking over the hallways. She reached out and snagged Roman’s wrist.

Roman grinned, adrenaline pumping through his veins even as his heart pounded. A part of him thought they had returned to high school, cackling as the teachers screamed about some prank they had pulled with the theater group. The rest felt his heart pound and quietly reminded him that this was serious.

Roman glanced to his left and met Virgil’s terrified eyes. He let his grin drop, and as Victoria skid to a stop Roman tugged out of her grip to reach of Virgil.

“There,” she breathed, pointing around the corner.

Roman peered over her head. Richard stood with his back to a corner, the cape gripped in his hand like a security blanket. His mouth moved once, too quiet for Roman to make out the words as someone shuffled towards him. He flinched back, and the light above them all rattled.

“Ok.” Roman took a deep breath, “Here’s what we can—”

“Don’t touch him!” Virgil’s snarl made Roman flinch as the other side burst out of his hiding place. Roman’s hand reached out to stop him, closing in on air.

Heads swiveled around, and Roman threw himself after Virgil without a thought. He pressed his shoulder to Virgil’s, shifting into a fighting stance.

“Step away from the child,” Roman said, with more confidence than he was feeling, “and no one will get hurt.”

“Oh yeah right,” the voice was familiar, and Roman’s eyes swung around to meet Kyle’s. “You can’t do shit and you know it. If you could use your magic, you’d have been long gone already.”

 _Your magic_ , Roman mouthed to himself, brow furrowing.

“So,” Kyle said slowly, before Roman could put more thought into it. The man’s hands came up, the air around them shimmering like heat swirling from the ground on a summer’s day.

Roman felt a giddy, mad grin spread across his face. Magic. It was real! Being used against them but still! Real!

“You’re going to do as we say. Walk slowly back to your cell, take your _friend_ with you, and wait for the Boss.”

Roman glanced at Richard, small and shaking. At Virgil, red-faced and trembling with clenched fists. He took note of a very important fact, and his grin turned smug.

“No.”

Virgil froze next to him, and as Kyle’s face morphed into surprise, Roman _moved_.

The lack of speed frustrated him, but he ducked. Anticipation was everything something in him screamed. Reaching out and grabbing the nearest mage’s arm and twisting came easy as breathing when they weren’t expecting it. He shoved the man in front of him.

“Now if you don’t _mind_ ,” he said when he finished, taking a quick breath. “We’re going to take our leave.”

Silence. Roman wondered if he had created a situation where he could hear a pin drop.

“Fine,” Kyle spat out. “We do this the hard way.”

The world exploded. Roman blinked as he shook his head from against the wall, wondering how he had gotten there. Hie ears rang, and every bruise and injury on his body ached. He could see Virgil’s mouth move in a furious scream, but there was no sound. He pressed himself up against the wall to stand straighter, and oh, magic that’s right; he probably should have been smarter about that.

His first step was a limp, fire coursing through his, no doubt, reopened cut. But his second was a sprint.

The mages converged on Virgil, and Roman threw himself straight into the mess. He rammed his elbow into a face. There was no crunch; only the eerie ringing in his ears and Roman shook his head again.

Black barreled past him, and Roman flinched as Virgil tackled a mage coming at him from the side. He could barely make out the words that Virgil yelled as Roman ducked under a reaching arm.

“–never think anything through, god dammit. Should have just left me behind—”

“Never!” Roman shouted back, unsure of how loud he actually was.

He grinned at the scowl that Virgil shot him, only to blink at the way his friend’s face paled.

A hand gripped his waist, yanking him back. Roman yelped, struggling to find his footing as his assailant’s other hand gripped the back of his neck.

“Nobody move,” Kyle growled, and Roman flailed, struggling to kick back against the man’s grip. Kyle’s grip on his neck tightened, a heat running through Roman at the point of contact and he shrieked. His fingers clawed at the arm around his waist, and his struggling became less about defiance and simply about escape.

“Stop it!” Virgil shrieked, surging forward. Two mages caught his arms, and Virgil snarled. “Leave him alone!”

Roman slumped in Kyle’s hold as the feeling stopped, panting as everything in him ached. His fingers loosened from their iron grip, and some distant part of him wondered why he hadn’t managed to leave at least claw marks.

“I assume you’re going to cooperate now?” Kyle asked coldly.

Roman opened his mouth, exhausted sass ready on the tip of his tongue before Virgil shot him a venomous look. Virgil stilled, his jaw clenched as he stopped struggling. Roman couldn’t help the fluttering smirk that crossed his face as they let go of the other side, and it grew as Virgil stared at him — or more specifically, behind him. The prince always had loved the look of dawning that people got when his plans worked out.

“Hey, asshole,” Victoria’s voice was ice cold, and Roman relished in the flinch that racked Kyle’s body.

He spun, dragging Roman with him. Victoria stood with one hand on Richard’s shoulder and the other in the air, golden silk flashing in the low light. Richard blinked back tears, but his eyes were made of fire and the air around the two seemed to tremble.

“ ** _Hands off_** ,” Victoria’s voice rumbled, echoing through the room. Roman could have sworn the foundations shook as Kyle let go of him like he had been shocked.

Roman stumbled, and dashed forwards while the mages were still stunned. He let out a half mad cackle as Victoria’s mouth quirked upwards into a smirk. “ ** _Now back the hell off_ **.”

Roman bounced on the balls of his feet, waving Virgil over from his spot at Victoria’s side. Virgil inched past the mages, eyeing them warily as if the slowly shuffling pack would reach out and grab him again. He skittered to Roman’s side though his eyes were glued to Richard. The child waved, a small quick movement before leaning back against Victoria.

Victoria took a deep breath, sweat beading on her brow.

“ **Stop– Stop using magic** ,” she breathed, her voice losing strength. “ **Let– Let– L** et—“

“Run,” Richard whispered, shoving at Victoria. She stumbled and Roman reached out to steady her out of habit. They stumbled together, Virgil shoving at them from behind as the mages shook their heads, some of them already starting to stride towards them.

It took a moment, Virgil’s hands on his back and Victoria’s fingers twined through his before Roman could work his body up into a full fledged run. Shouts started up behind them, and Roman could feel Virgil pushing them all faster.

“Jasmine–” Victoria paused to suck in breath– “Jasmine is three– three blocks away. Make– make it there and we’ll– we’ll be in the– the clear, right?”

“Oh god, let’s hope so,” Roman replied, practically dragging his best friend behind him as Virgil kept pace. It probably meant that they weren’t going fast enough, especially since Virgil kept throwing glances over his shoulders.

“Move, move, move, move,” Virgil muttered, picking up his own pace. Roman gritted his teeth and pushed himself faster, matching Virgil stride for stride. If Anxiety wanted them to move at a time like this, then by godmother Roman was going to comply.

“Left or right?!” Virgil asked, panic seeping into his tone.

“Left—” Victoria barely managed the word before Virgil was darting down the hall. Roman dragged her after him, glancing to his side to make sure Richard was keeping up. The kid gave him a wobbly smile, tripping over his own feet before finding his balance and Roman had to swallow hard.

This was in not the way this Epic Rescue Plan was supposed to go.

“Not fast,” Richard said, and Vic’s hand tightened in his.

“Hide?” Victoria suggested.

“They know every inch of the place,” Virgil shot back. “We’d be found within moments, or worse, after hours of panic—”

Roman cut off the impending discussion by shoving Virgil into the nearest room. He let Richard slip past him before pulling Victoria in and closing the door behind him. Victoria immediately slumped against the wall, her legs giving out.

“I’m not made for this,” she told her legs, curling into a ball. “I was going to curl into a comfy chair and talk people through their problems all day. Exercise is the ban of my existence.”

“Mood,” Virgil said, before running a hand over his face to scrub at his flush. Victoria looked up long enough to give him an exhausted wink and a finger gun before letting her head drop back down to her knees. Roman leaned back against the wall next to her, grateful for the lighter atmosphere as he racked his brain for a solution.

“We can all fit under the cape right?” he said under his breath, a hand coming up to tug at his hair. “We’d be out of sight and then it’s just a matter of moving carefully enough. Virgil’s here, Virgil can do that. Wait, no, no, we’re all exhausted, that’s loud, we’ll be caught—”

Virgil pressed a fist to his arm, and Roman jolted at the touch. The anxious side raised an eyebrow at him.

“I think you’ve got it backwards, Princey—”

“Princey, that’s a good one I like it,” Vic murmured from her spot on the ground. Richard gave her a pat on the head, and Virgil rolled his eyes.

“— _I’m_ the one that’s supposed to worry. You got the arrogance and irritatingly-never-ending confidence.”

“Perfection you mean,” Victoria added, and Richard pressed a hand to his face to smother giggles. Roman felt a smile twitch its way onto his face as she continued, “May his godlike abilities live on forever.”

“He’s a moron,” Virgil said.

“Not denying that,” Victoria said, and grinned at the look at Virgil’s face. “He’s the perfect moron.”

“I hate you both,” Roman said plainly, and froze. The entire room fell silent as footsteps hurried past their door. Tension skyrocketed. Roman felt his breath catch, and eyed Virgil; who bit the tip of his thumb. Roman reached out, tugging the cape from Richard’s hands gently, having to help the boy pry his fingers off of it.

“We can’t stay here,” he whispered, and then froze. “Or could we?”

He whirled, crouching down in front of Vic and Richard.

“Do they know about the cape?” He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice — tried to keep it serious;but it was hard when giddiness was rising in his chest. The feelings of an idea stringing together to help those he cared about and showcase his abilities.

Richard and Vic exchanged a look, tossing a silent memory between the two. Slowly— hesitantly—Richard shook his head.

“I think it all spun out of control before we could use it,” Victoria said. “Richard didn’t use it?”

The boy shook his head again. “Ran.”

“So they don’t know we can hide,” Virgil said, understanding dawning in his eyes.

“We can wait,” Roman said, grinning. “Sit here, under the cape, waiting for the heat to die down—”

“—And then walk out when they think we’ve already escaped,” Victoria finished, reaching a hand out for a high five. Roman laughed, letting the slap echo through the small room in victory. Victoria snickered, settling into a more comfortable position.

“Wow,” Virgil said, settling in across from her. “It’s Roman and Roman 2.0”

“Am I at least Roman 2.0?” Victoria asked, “I need to know so that I can know which gen is superior.”

Roman bit his lip on an outraged shriek, and Victoria winked at him.

“Obviously, it’s the first right?” she added, and Virgil’s lips twitched up in response. Or maybe it was Richard burying himself into Virgil’s side. Or maybe it was both. Roman wasn’t sure.

What he was sure of was this:

Victoria’s shoulder was as comfortable as it had always been; that he was exhausted from the past few hours.

And that it was even better falling asleep on his best friend when she was softly bickering with his brother the entire time.

* * *

 

Virgil watched the ginger-haired woman run her fingers through Roman's hair. His eyes narrowed as she carefully shifted Roman's head from her shoulder down to her lap. Her eyes were soft as she stared down at him, everything about her soft enough that her darker words could almost be folded away behind her love of Roman.

Because of course Roman managed to catch the attention of someone like that.

Except—

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes steadily and Virgil could see the shadows that danced their way through the green. She wasn't everything she portrayed herself as.

"So you're Virgil," she whispered.

"What's it to you," he snapped, tightening his hold around Richard. She had come to rescue them, but what if it was a trick? A long con, planted from the very beginning of Roman's life or however long ago they had met. It was stupid—a conspiracy theory at most—but Virgil wasn't the type to trust easy.

"Oh you know, things here and there, nothing important." She waved a hand grandly, and Virgil could see why Roman of all people liked her. "Just my best friend's life and happiness on the line."

Virgil flinched at the sharp accusation hidden under the words. Roman hurt carelessly, without thought. Apparently his best friend knew exactly how to wield her tongue to skin those she wanted to. Not that Virgil would buckle under, not when it came to Roman. Virgil was a useless bastard; Roman was the shining star.

"He wouldn't shut up about you," she said softly, playing with a strand of Roman's hair. She glanced away from Virgil, eyes skittering away to a corner of the room. Virgil pushed back the idle thought of spiders and how much it would have terrified Patton. "Once he remembered, all he could talk about was Logan this, Patton that, how much longer until we find Virgil do you think?"

Virgil blinked, and ducked his head to hide the rapidly growing warmth in his chest. God, Roman was such a moron. _His_ moron though.

"You could hurt him so easily," Victoria whispered.

"Don't need to tell me that," Virgil muttered. He tapped his fingers against Richard's arm; the kid shifted uneasily under his arm. He glared, throwing out a challenge of his own. "And you could hurt him just as easily."

Virgil startled at the laugh that come from the woman. A bitter sound that Virgil knew he had heard from his own throat before.

"Oh that's a good one," Victoria murmured. "I couldn't hurt him even if I tried. I'm not his equal, not like you are. I'm a friend, a sidekick. You're family, his _partner_. I don't begrudge him for it. I wouldn't want me over you either."

She swept the bangs out of Roman's eyes, looking incredibly fragile for a moment.

"He likes me. He loves you."

Virgil couldn't help the snicker that escaped from his throat. She startled, looking up to shoot him an incredulous look.

"You have no idea," he said, amused, "how often I've thought those exact words myself."

Victoria stared for a long moment before her mouth twitched up in a hesitant smirk.

"I mean, there are days when it's so much easier to bash your head against the wall than deal with life. All the pain, none of the work," Victoria joked, her tone suggesting that she wasn't sure how well he'd take it.

Virgil matched her smirk with one of his own. God, Logan would put up with his darker humor, but he didn't think any of the sides other than Deceit ever joined in.

"Or jump out the window to break a leg," he replied. "Don't need to run away from responsibility if you're in the hospital."

His words were rewarded with a bark of laughter. Victoria met his eyes with her own, and the shadows in them grew even darker. What was it that Patton had said once? The darker the shadows the brighter the light? Well, Roman had certainly found himself an interesting shadow.

Virgil would have to keep an eye on this one.

"I think we should try this again," Victoria suggested. "Hi, my name is Victoria, my friends call me Vic. I've been best friends with Roman since the start of high school when he saved my life. I want to be a therapist, but I seem to struggle with reaching that goal. It may be the fact that I'm willing to drop everything to travel the country on what was basically a whim of my best friend, but who could ever know?"

Virgil waved at her.

"Hey, I'm Virgil."

He let the silence settle, smirk growing as it dawned on her that he wasn't going to add any more on. Her eyes lit up in delight and her laughter echoed even louder.

Yeah, Virgil would keep an eye on her, for more reasons than one.


	12. Chapter 12

_It hurt. Everything hurt and he just wanted it to_ stop _._

_They helped. He knew they did. Not in the way he wished for,—desperate and afraid—but it helped anyways. As he curled up and pressed the replay button. Over and over and over and over—_

_Until the screen blurred and the figures on it lost their shape. Until they crawled out of the digital world and he could grip their hand tight through the horror and the pain. The figures wrapped themselves around him, and he tipped his head back to bask in the feeling._

_The arms around him grew tighter and tighter until it threatened to choke him and he gasped._

_“Your fault,” they whispered, “this is your fault. They were happy. They were happy until_ you _.”_

_His mouth opened and closed, apology on his lips. He wanted desperately to go back, to undo what he had done, but not enough. Not enough for it to actually happen, and the shadows dove down his throat._

_He tried to scream, tried to thrash to apologise, to escape the guilt and the new pain but he couldn’t breathe—_

* * *

Roman gasped, surging forwards, and struggling against the hand that pressed to his mouth.

“Shooooosh,” Victoria murmured, “Shooosh Ro, they’re nearby.”

His flailing slowed, and he took a shuddering breath, looking around. Virgil had moved to be pressed up against Victoria’s other side, gripping Richard to his chest tightly as the kid slept. Victoria ran a hand through his hair, eyes locked on the door as a shadows passed under the crack.

“They’ve been there for too long,” Virgil said, voice low as he stared as well. “They know we’re here, we’re going to get caught, there’s nowhere to run—”

“Shoooosh,” Victoria said, and Roman jolted at the realization that it was too close to the tone she used with him. “We don’t know that yet–” She paused– “but we can be ready for if they do. How well are you at using your hands?”

Virgil blinked at her, and Victoria’s grin might have been a shade insane as she held up the gloved hand not in Roman’s hair. She tugged it down on her wrist and Virgil gapped at the claws that grew from them.

“I’ve got two gloves after all,” she said with a wink, and Roman whined.

“What? But why didn’t I get this offer?”

“Maybe because you already have your cool magical item, Harry Potter,” Victoria said. “Or maybe because I’ve replaced you with Virgil. He’s my bestie now; sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Virgil smothered a snicker, and Roman exaggerated his pout. The shadow passed over their doorway once more, and Roman felt Victoria’s hand tighten in his hair. He held his breath, watching as the person moved on once more.

“How long has it been?” he asked. “Long enough we can make our move?”

“Not until _they_ –” Virgil nodded towards the door–“back off.”

“We could try and take them out,” Roman suggested, impatience pressing at his chest. The dream he had licked at the edges of his consciousness, and the fact that he couldn’t identify who it was made his skin itch. Was it Logan or Patton? Which one was drowning in that guilt?

“Roman, no,” Virgil said.

“Roman, yes,” Victoria joked, and Roman grinned up at her. He reached out and squeezed her hand. She snickered, squeezing back before helping him to sit up. “Maybe not quite in that sense, but, and not to brag, I _am_ a Jedi now.”

Roman flailed, “Yes!”

Virgil frowned.

“What about what happened last time?” he asked. Richard shifted against his chest and Virgil glanced down at him. “You were exhausted and, unlike Roman, you haven’t slept.”

A frown crossed her face, and Roman felt the first pangs of disappoint stir in his chest. Almost immediately Victoria’s face smoothed, and she shrugged.   
  
“Worth it to escape, don’t you think?” she said. Virgil’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t say anything else as she nudged them away to stand up. She wobbled slightly, and Roman bit his lip, suddenly doubting his idea.

“Be ready,” she said, and Roman heaved himself to his feet. He gripped the edges of his cape, unsure if he’d throw it at the mage if this went wrong, or throw it over the rest of them.

Victoria laid a hand on the door handle, hesitating a split second. Her grip tightened and Roman held his breath as it turned slowly. Virgil tensed, and as the shadow began its path once more, Victoria jerked.

The door swung, slamming against the wall. Roman did a double take at the face that greeted them. Rose grimaced, hands out in the same manner that Victoria’s were. Her eyes locked onto the gloves and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“So we were too late,” Rose whispered.

Victoria hesitated, her hand dropping in surprise at Rose’s words.

“Vic!” Virgil snapped, and her hand straightened once more.

“It doesn’t matter,” Vic said, almost to herself waving her gloved hand, “because you’re going to **leave us alone and forget you saw us**.”

The mage’s eyes glazed over as she turned and strode off further into the warehouse. Victoria let out a shaky breath as she turned back to them and grinned.

“See?” she said. “No problem.”

“I hate you,” Virgil muttered, gather Richard up in his arms and staggering to his feet.

“Pffft,” Victoria waved him off as Roman bound over to her with  matching grin. “You can’t hate me anymore that you can hate Roman.”

“Awww,” Roman cooed, “Did Dark Tales tell you stories while I slept?”

The thought of them both talking about him made his chest tighten. This is what he wanted, his family all in one spot (and praising his awesome self). The feeling faded somewhat as they shared a matching smirk. Victoria bounced on her heels as she waved at them to follow her as she said.

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know, Princey.”

He sputtered at the nickname that he was used to hearing from Virgil and Vic cackled. She stumbled slightly, and Roman reached out to steady her, only to realize that his hand was shaking almost as much as hers was.

“Get a move on,” Virgil said, striding past them, grabbing Richard by his hands. “They’re not going to stay away for long.”

Richard blinked slowly from Virgil’s arms, looking more exhausted than he had before he had slept.

“Sure thing, Worry Wart,” Victoria agreed easily. Roman grinned at the expression that crossed Virgil’s face, biting back a cackle that matched Victoria’s. Some part of him felt like they had stumbled back into high school all over again; with the stupid rule-breaking, injuries, and inappropriate laughing included.

They inched their way through the warehouse, and Roman held his breath every time they had to tuck themselves under the cape. Most mages were hurrying through the place alone; something that struck Roman as odd, though he couldn’t place why.

He flinched at the sunlight as they emerged, and blinked as Victoria make a broken noise.

“God, it looks worse in the light,” she said, reaching out to gently pull his face towards her. “You still standing, at least?”

Roman rolled his eyes extracting himself from her hold, and pretending that he couldn’t see Virgil staring at him in horror. It wasn’t the worse that he’d ever endured, and as long as nothing was broken, they weren’t exactly in the position to stand around comparing injuries.

“Always,” he said and Victoria nodded.

Roman ignored the alarmed look that Virgil sent their way and Victoria pointed in the direction she had parked Jasmine. Roman took a couple of steps before realizing that she had set Virgil in the right direction before slowing to talk to him quietly.

Her eyes raked over his form, taking in the bruising and the blood, and Roman gave her half a shoulder shrug in response. Her smile was tired and pained, but she held out a fist. Roman felt the last of his tension bleed away at the familiar gesture. The one that meant the struggle was over and he was safe.

“Long-sleeve buddies?” she whispered.

Roman met her fist with his and murmured, “Long-sleeve buddies.”

She laughed, startling Virgil in front of them. He turned to narrow his eyes at him, and Roman smirked as Victoria waggled her fingers at the other side. It hadn’t gone according to his Epic Rescue Plan, but at least...

At least they had all gotten out safe, and with only him harmed. Roman thought he could count that as a win.

Jasmine was a welcome sight and Roman couldn’t help but flop over his car’s hood.

“My baby! Papa missed you too! Were you good for your godmother, I bet you were,” he cooed at the car. He ran a hand over the scratched metal, feeling his smile turn less manic and more soft. Godmother, he loved his car

“Oh my god,” Virgil said as he helped Richard into the back, “It’s a car Roman.” He paused. “Though I supposed that treating it like that may help your survival in the inevitable robot uprising.”

Roman turned to stare at Virgil as Victoria cackle.

“Robot uprising!” she crowed. “I’m down for that. May my phone get revenge for all the times I’ve dropped it.”

“Mood,” Virgil replied and Roman smothered a shriek as that set off another round of cackles from Victoria. He wasn’t sure if he was thrilled they were getting along, or jealous. Or even worried. He shook his head and held out his hand.

“I’m dri—”

“Nope,” Victoria chirped, bouncing around to the driver’s side. “You’re even more insane than I thought you were if you think I’m letting you drive when you can barely walk on your leg.”

Roman shot Victoria a betrayed look as she hummed. He faced Virgil, as if asking for help, but was met with Virgil’s narrow stare.

“Roman!” Virgil hissed, whirling to give him a better look over instead. “Goddammit, get in the back; you guys better have a first aid kit–”

“In the glove compartment!” Victoria added helpfully as Virgil manhandled Roman in next to Richard. The actor pouted, looking down at the kid who was quietly watching them all.

“At least you still love me,” Roman told him and Richard reached out to pat his uninjured leg. A smirk twitched up his lips and Roman gaped at him, feeling betrayed once more before he even opened his mouth.

“Weird,” Richard said like he was imparting the secrets of the universe. “Like Virgil more.”

“Damn straight,” Virgil said smugly. Richard smothered giggles with his hands as Roman flailed.

“I hate you all!” he shrieked.

“No you don’t,” Virgil and Vic chimed together and Richards giggles grew breathless.

Roman pouted, crossing his arms and sinking down into his seat. Virgil settled in on Roman’s other side as Victoria started up Jasmine and they peeled away from the horrid place. Roman hoped they never saw it again. Like a video game dungeon, they had defeated it and they never had to go back.

Virgil suddenly tugged at his leg, snapping Roman out of his thoughts. He watched as the anxious side winced at the mess of blood that had soaked through Roman’s first bangaging, and scowled. He very pointedly didn’t say anything and Roman sunk a little lower in his seat. It had been a stupid plan, like all of his plans and—

“Hey Ro,” Virgil said quietly as he set about removing the gauze and cleaning his leg up. Roman blinked and met his eyes. Virgil gave him a small swift smile before ducking his head. “It was stupid, but– Thanks.”

Roman blinked, taken aback before his face grew warm. He grinned through his slight flush and declared.

“Well of course! The prince has got to slay, both metaphorically and literally. I should be thanking you for the opportunity for adventure. I really had been missing the chance to show off my skills—”

“Shut up and take the compliment,” Virgil interrupted.

Roman snapped his mouth shut and grinned sheepishly. He reached out and placed his hand on Virgil’s arm gently.

“I was always going to come for you Virge.” He smiled wider, and continued at the fragile look Virgil gave him. “I mean who else would I be able to show off to without you around. Things are always so much more entertaining when there are screams in the background—”

“I feel like chopped liver,” Victoria called from the front, and Virgil flipped them both off. She cackled, but the noise cut off abruptly. Roman frowned.

“Vic?” Roman asked, leaning forward to see what had caught her attention. Virgil's prodding hands on his arm stilled.

“Well,” she said softly, “I found where all the mages went after they stopped looking for us.”

Roman felt his heart drop, scrambling to the passenger seat for the best view. The small house they had been staying at was surrounded. Several black vans sat in the street and Virgil silently pointed out figured perched along the rooftops as well. Tense silence fell across them all.

“Roman?” Victoria asked quietly.

He bit his lips, eyes narrowing. Think! There had to be away around this! They couldn't just _leave_ the couple that had been kind to them for all that Roman knew that Logan would point out that it was the logical option. They had given too much for Roman to be comfortable ditching them to whatever horrid fate the mages would cause them.

He bit down harder on his lip, muttering to himself.

“We can't take them all on ourselves. If there were less maybe. Is there a way we could contact them? Let them know that– no there isn't anything they could do...”

Roman tugged at his hair, distinctly aware of the eyes on him. He had to come up with something.

“We could lead some of them off, but if the bait gets caught then we’re right back to where we started and we can't break back in again—”

“Roman,” Vic said softly, “breathe.”

The actor sucked in a deep breath, cutting off his ramblings.

“No one is playing bait,” Virgil added and Victoria nodded.

“You'll come up with something,” Vic said.

“Just don't take too–” Virgil snapped back from leaning between the front seats as a click of the car doors sounded.

“Richard, what the—”

The child clambered out of the car, ducking away from Virgil's hand.

“Bait,” he murmured, and Roman felt his hands tighten in his hair.

“No!” He protested. “We agreed earlier you’re too young to be bait!”

Richard shook his head, as the rest of them hurried after him, struggling to get out of the car. “Not young.”

“Richard buddy,” Victoria approached him slowly, ever step she took forward matched by a step back. “I hate to break it to ya, but thirteen is young.”

Roman grimaced at the bitter smile that earned her as Richard shook his head.

“Richard please,” Virgil begged, coming at the kid from the side. Roman winced at the look that the plea drew from the kid, but it did nothing from his inching up along the other side. “Don’t do this. You don’t need to do this.”

“I’m sorry,” Richard whispered, and Virgil lunged forward hand brushing against his back as the kid bolted for the house.

“No!” Virgil screamed, and Roman moved before he could think about it. Richard had a head-start, but Roman had longer legs. He ate up the distance between them in a few quick strides, reaching out to grab Richard before they could draw too much more attention.

A flash in the corner of his vision had him ducking and rolling on instinct, dragging his cape up above his head. Heat engulfed him, and Roman felt flames lick at his fingers as Virgil and Victoria screamed.

He sprung to his feet, and ran his hand over the undamaged silk. A giddy grin split his face because well, magic! Roman looked up from the cape to meet the eyes of the stunned mage, who still stood with her hand thrown out from the spell.

“Richard!” Virgil shouted, and Roman whirled. Richard had taken the distraction to leap over the picket fence, but several of the mages were closing in on him. Roman felt his heart sink, knowing that there was no way he could make it to the child in time. Virgil’s voice seemed to echo in time with Richard ducking and covering his head as a mage reached their hand out.

“No!”

The earth rumbled, and Roman pitched forward, hissing as he landed hard on his hands and knees. Shouts and yelps sounded, and Roman’s head snapped up in surprise. He rolled to the side as a mage was thrown past him, and he gaped as Victoria took his arm to help haul him back up to his feet.

Virgil sprinted past him, and pressed his hands to the invisible barrier that had thrown the mages out.

“What happened?” Roman shouted.

“Oh, I certainly know,” Virgil snarled, eyes blown wide, “because I love panicking for no reason.”

“Guys,” Victoria murmured, eyes turned towards not the small figure that was making his way towards them, but the mages that were picking themselves up off the ground. “Whatever we’re going to do, we gotta do it now.”

“Get him out of there!” Roman winced at the panic that laced Virgil’s tone with hysteria; the way that the other side’s hands turned white against what kept him away from Richard. “Tear it down! Do something– !”

Victoria cursed, stepping around Virgil and lashing out with clawed fingers at the mage that reached for the hyperventilating Virgil. She threw a panicked glance in Roman’s direction and he swallowed hard. He wanted to be the prince, the hero, but at the same time—

(He was selfish.)

Roman wound his arm around Virgil’s waist, and grit his teeth against the scream that tore from Virgil’s throat as he was hauled back. Nails scraped against arms, and Roman jerked his head towards Jasmine at Victoria’s look. She hesitated, an emotion Roman couldn’t name flashing through her eyes, before she hurried after the two of them.

Virgil thrashed in his grasp, voice cracking as he grew more frantic.

“Let me go you, you _bastard_!” Roman dragged him back another step, trying to ignore the way that Richard pressed a hand where Virgil’s had been moments before. “What if it doesn’t hold? What if it holds too well? LET ME GO! RICHARD! _RICHARD_!”

Victoria threw open the door to the car, and Roman almost tripped trying to step into it backwards. His arms ached, and he felt like he had swallowed a rock, but he refused to lose Virgil after he had just found him.

Victoria ducked unto another blast of fire and dove for the front seat, Jasmine’s engine roaring to life. Virgil jerked back, and Roman’s breath left in a rush as Virgil’s elbow buried itself in his gut.

“Turn around!” Virgil glared at Victoria, and Roman could feel his whole body trembling. “Go _back_ , or I’ll– I’ll—”

Roman tugged him closer and buried his head in the other side’s neck, pretending it was just for Virgil’s comfort. He could feel Virgil’s breath hitched.

“I hate you.”

Roman sucked in a sharp breath.

“I know,” he replied, “I hate me too.”


End file.
